Projection
by ShadeOfWine
Summary: Izaya knows about psychological projection. However, he doesn't quite know everything about himself. Also, some new dangerous people have made their way to Ikebukuro, but what could they possibly want? Eventual Shizaya.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Izaya Orihara knew about psychological projection.

In high school, he often recognized it in his classmates. Many of the bullies would call their victims "dumbass," when they were the real dumbasses. Many of the catty, "popular" girls would call others "ugly," when they were the true ugly ones. It's a defense mechanism. Not many humans want to be honest with themselves when it comes to their own shortcomings.

Izaya was a genius when it came to psychology. Without his knowledge of the mind and its workings, he'd never be able to manipulate his precious humans. He would use this knowledge to force them into taking part in his experiments. Most of the time, the experiments he conducted came to predictable conclusions. Sometimes, however, they did not. These were the experiments that interested him the most, and in some cases, these experiments consumed him.

His obsession with Celty's head and the afterlife is a good example of this. Oh, how badly he wanted to know what awaited him after death. The results of that experiment were a mystery to him. He sometimes considered the possibility that he may never solve the mystery of the afterlife. He truly hated this possibility. He truly hated not knowing.

Another good example is a man. A man with dyed hair, a bartender outfit, and an unstoppable temper. To Izaya, however, Shizuo Heiwajima was no man. He was a monster. His inhuman strength, unpredictability, and unwillingness to listen to reason were all reasons why Izaya hated him. Also, Shizuo was sometimes smart. Izaya thought that this intelligence had no place residing in such a monster. That was a pain. As much as Izaya found unpredictable conclusions interesting, when it came to Shizuo, they infuriated him.

Yes, his hatred of Shizuo Heiwajima was something Izaya knew existed. It was a certainty, much like the coldness of a winter or the heat of the summer.

Izaya also thought he knew why he hated him. However, he was wrong about that little detail.

Izaya Orihara knew about psychological projection.

However, he didn't recognize it in himself.


	2. An Ordinary Morning

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone for reading this/commenting/following!  
This is chapter 1, by the way, I meant to write a note last time, but I completely forgot, haha. That was indeed the prologue (I've edited it to reflect, as such.)  
Anyway, I hope you enjoy!  
_

Izaya awoke one chilly, mid-January morning to utter silence. His room was still bathed in darkness, he could only see a tiny sliver of light shining in from underneath his curtains. He rolled over and checked his phone. The bright screen temporarily blinded him, but after a moment he saw the "6:32 AM" displayed in front of his eyes. It was earlier than usual. He wondered if he should try to fall asleep again. After all, he had some important things to take care of today. He needed his rest.

After a few moments of tossing and turning, he gave up, stood, and meandered into the bathroom. He turned on the bathtub faucet, adding in some mint-scented bubble bath. Izaya Orihara might be one of the most feared people in Japan, but he still liked to smell nice, just like any other human being. Not that he actually considered himself to be human, of course.

After bathing, he dressed himself in his usual black shirt and jeans, turned the coffee maker on, and sat down at his desk. It was now 7:18AM.

The coffee maker dinged, and Izaya poured himself a mug full. No milk. No sugar. He enjoyed the natural, bitterness that the liquid possessed, unlike a certain faux-bartender who undoubtedly made his coffee with milk/sugar to coffee ratio of 10:1. Izaya cringed at the thought of that much sweetness.

After leaving some coffee behind for Namie, he began scrolling through his various email accounts. He began with "Nakura's". A handful of messages, mostly from teenage girls, had been received over the course of the last 10 hours or so. Izaya responded to a couple with a gleeful smirk, and then turned his attention to his own, professional account.

There were far more emails in this inbox. Many were from clients, asking for information, advice, or both. Some were from addresses he didn't recognize, either new, potential clients, or spam. He carefully deleted the ones that had "COnGRAtS! YOu'Ve WOn a FRee IPAd!" and "I am a prince and I need YOUR help!" in the subject line. There were also a couple emails from Tsukumoya, which Izaya deleted without reading.

At that point, Namie arrived. It was 8:00AM on the dot. Izaya could hear the clacking of her heels as she made her way down the hallway.

"Morning," she said, her voice lacking any expression.

"Good morning, Namie-san," Izaya responded, with a grin. She ignored him and poured some coffee, adding only a splash of milk to the dark brown liquid.

A few moments later, Izaya's phone buzzed. It was a reminder for a meeting he had scheduled later that day.

"Well I guess, I better be off," he said, pulling on his coat. Namie didn't grace his with a reply. "See you later, Namie-san."

As Izaya closed the door, a strange feeling suddenly came over him. He braced himself, and slid his flick blade down is sleeve and into his hand. At first he wasn't sure why he felt so uneasy. The hallway looked the same as it always did. There was no one around. It was almost completely silent, except for his own heartbeat. His heart wasn't racing, but it had certainly picked up a bit of speed.

Then, Izaya saw something out of the corner of his right eye.

It was a black line, spray painted across the front door, and onto either side of the wall. He hadn't noticed it right away because he hadn't been looking at the door when he had closed it behind him, but now he wondered how he could have missed it. It was a thick and above it, a series of zeroes and ones had been painted. Izaya took out his phone and snapped three pictures, each from a different angle. After a moment, he slid the knife back up his sleeve.

_Hmm, what to do, what to do?_ He wondered, tapping his foot against the ground.

After a few seconds, he made his decision and left the building. After all, he had a very important appointment to get to.


	3. Two Important Appointments

**A/N: **Wow, this is longer than I thought it would be, but I suppose that's a good thing.  
As usual, thank you for reading! Enjoy!

Pulling his coat closer to his body, Izaya made his way to Shinjuku station. The wind was harsh that day. His hair fluttered in the wind, and his cheeks began to turn pink from the cold. It didn't take long before he decided to pull his hood over his head. While he walked, he thought about his defaced front door. It would need to be repainted, and he wasn't sure if it would be a good idea to hire someone to do it. Izaya had no knowledge of the spray-painted mark, but it was probably a type of warning. It had been done quickly, that was for sure. The person who did it must have been watching the hallway because they had managed to do their work in the few moments between Namie's arrival and Izaya's departure.

_It's probably gang-related_, Izaya thought, _but which gang?_ He frowned at this thought. He thought he knew about all the gangs in both Shinjuku and Ikebukuro, yet the mark didn't look familiar.

As he was lost in the musings of his own mind, Izaya arrived at the station with no memory of how he got there. That was to be expected, though. His subconscious knew how to get back and forth from his apartment to the station because of how many times he made the trip. He probably could've done it blindfolded.

He boarded a Yamanote line train bound for Ikebukuro, took a seat, pulled out his phone, and began examining one of the photos. The black line was sloppily done. It wasn't straight; the right side was lower down than the left. Thin, vertical stripes of paint had trickled down here and there. It was a quick job, after all. The person that did this was cautious, but clearly not a professional.

Izaya turned his attention to the series of numbers painted above the line. They were also crooked, some were thicker than others, and the ones toward the end were wavier and closer together. He began to wonder if the perpetrator had heard him coming and picked up the pace.

The numbers read: 0100001001001000.

With the amount of binary to text translators that Izaya knew existed on the internet, he was confident that he'd be able to figure out what those numbers meant as soon as he was back in his apartment.

The train pulled into Ikebukuro station as soon as Izaya put his phone back into his pocket. He departed, and made his way through the bustling crowd to the West exit. As usual, the station and the city itself were busy. Many people were going to work; all of them bundled up in jackets and scarves with tired, defeated looks on their faces. Izaya never understood why people hated winter as much as they did. He enjoyed the chilly air. He liked watching his breath drift upward to the sky in long, smoky puffs, at least until it reminded him of Shizuo and his smoking habit. After that, he held his breath.

It didn't take him long to reach his destination. He knocked on an old, wooden door and after a moment, a voice spoke to him. He answered back, providing a password with a confident voice. He was let inside. A tall man, whom the voice belonged to, ushered him forward.

"Shiki-san has been waiting for you, Orihara-san," he said in a gruff tone.

"Good."

The man felt the need to direct him to Shiki's office, despite the fact that Izaya had been there plenty of times before. After all this time, and Shiki still didn't trust him. For a moment, Izaya was annoyed at this before conceding to the fact that he clearly had good instincts.

The tall man knocked on the door to Shiki's office.

"Yes?"

"Orihara-san is here to see you, sir."

"Send him in."

The man opened the door, let Izaya in, and then immediately shut it. Izaya knew that he must be waiting just outside, in case his boss called out for help. However, he also knew that doing so was completely unnecessary. Izaya knew better than to do anything that would put him on the Awakusu's bad side. He wasn't stupid. Shiki had value to him, and Izaya had value to Shiki. Their relationship was a symbiotic one; a useful one.

"Have a seat," said Shiki from behind an intricate desk. He had been typing on a laptop, but had since closed it and placed it in a drawer. Izaya took a seat on a plush, red loveseat across from him.

"Good morning, Shiki-san," he said with a hint of a smile.

"Let's cut right to the chase. I have a new job for you."

Izaya didn't reply, but watched as Shiki opened another drawer and pulled out a short stack of papers. He pushed a few of them across the desk, and Izaya carefully picked one up.

It was a photograph depicting the side of a hideous lime green car. On the driver's door, someone had spray-painted a white circle. Inside the circle were two letters: "WG." Izaya was so focused on this detail, that it took him a moment to notice the bloody handprints on the back seat window.

"Igarashi Hiro and Mizuno Hideki. They were two of our low-ranking members, and were killed two days ago not far from here. We managed to take care of it before the police got involved, but we don't know who did it," Shiki paused and let out a sigh, "have you heard anything about this?"

Izaya shook his head. No one had mentioned it on the Dollars website or in the chatroom, and none of his usual clients had either.

"What's this symbol on the car door?"

"We haven't figured that out. It looks like a gang sign, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but I don't think I've ever seen it before...interesting."

"What's interesting?"

Izaya pulled out his phone and showed him a picture of his door.

"That was just painted this morning. Do you recognize it, at all?"

Shiki shook his head.

_Yes, this is very interesting,_ thought Izaya.

"Send that photo to me when you get back to Shinjuku," said Shiki, "I'll ask around and see if anyone knows anything. I'd like you to look into the murders of Igurashi and Mizuno. I'll email you a rough estimate of the compensation you'll receive if you're able to give us enough information."

"That sounds splendid, Shiki-san," Izaya replied. They both stood and Shiki walked him to the door and opened it. Surely enough, the tall man was right outside.

"See Orihara-san to the exit, please."

"Yes, sir."

They were about halfway down the hallway when Shiki called out to them.

"And Izaya, this goes without saying, but keep the details as quiet as possible."

"You worry too much, Shiki-san," Izaya called back with a wave, "Just let me do my job."

And with that, Izaya was back on the street. The meeting had taken less than thirty minutes and it was nowhere near lunchtime, but he decided to pick up some of his favorite otoro sushi before heading back to Shinjuku. It was really the number one thing he missed about living in Ikebukuro.

He only made it two blocks before something heavy crashed just inches away from his heels. If he had been walking any slower, he would have been crushed, but he had heard the vending machine coming before it had even been launched at him. After all, he had developed a killer instinct for large, flying objects being thrown by monstrous men in bartender uniforms.

"IZAYA!" Shizuo exclaimed.

Izaya spun on his heels and faced the man who was quickly advancing on him.

"Aw, Shizu-chan, it's still early. Can't this wait until later?"

Shizuo growled and accelerated.

"I guess not," muttered Izaya as he spun back around and began to run.

And with that, their usual chase began.


	4. The Chase

**A/N: Hi! Sorry it took me longer than usual to update. Here's another semi-short chapter.  
I'm thinking that this will be a pretty long fanfiction overall, so** **I want to break it up as much as possible. **

**As usual, enjoy, and thanks for reading! :)**

Sometimes, Izaya felt as though he was in a nature documentary when he was being chased by Shizuo. He pictured himself as an innocent rodent being pursued by a wild, primal beast. In his mind, the camera would pan from him to Shizuo while some middle-aged man narrated their actions.

_Here, we see a monster in its natural habitat._

Shizuo ripped up a lamppost from the ground, as dozens of citizens looked on in frightened awe.

_The monster is incredibly violent, and volatile. He lacks intelligence, but makes up for it in brute strength._

Shizuo chucked the lamppost at Izaya, who managed to dodge it by turning a corner.

_For some reason, the monster enjoys hunting innocent prey out of anger, or perhaps jealousy, rather than necessity._

Shizuo turned the corner. He was quickly gaining on Izaya.

_This monster is a persistent being. Watch him go! He appears to outmatch his prey._

Izaya abruptly spun around on his heel.

_However, the prey has developed numerous adaptations in order to deal with the dangerous beast._

Izaya removed three throwing knives from his right jacket pocket and flung them at the quickly advancing Shizuo. He avoided two of them, but one struck him just under his left eye.

_The prey is well versed in sharp objects, and is far more intelligent than his pursuer._

The knives only slowed Shizuo down a little, but it was enough to allow Izaya to make it to the end of the street and turn another corner.

_The prey—_

All of a sudden, something caught the eye of the smug information broker, and he stopped for a moment. There was a mark on a building across the street; a black line under a white circle. He switched direction and ran toward it.

This move perplexed Shizuo, but he followed him, and narrowly avoided being hit by a car.

Izaya took out his phone and snapped a quick picture of the graffiti. For a split second, he forgot he was being chased. That was unusual. It was almost like he was entranced; entranced by the unknown workings and organizations of this town.

A sharp pain in his shoulder brought him back to reality.

Shizuo had thrown a bench at him, and he had sidestepped a split second too late. It almost knocked him over, but he managed to keep his balance and escape down another side street.

_Stupid monster_, he thought as he ran, clutching his left shoulder with his right hand. Instantly, he realized he had made a mistake. He hadn't turned into a side street, but into an alleyway, surrounded by very tall walls on all sides. He was cornered.

"It looks like this is it for you, doesn't it, Izaya?" Shizuo asked in a gruff, mocking tone.

_This is bad_, he thought. He couldn't climb over the walls, especially with his injured shoulder. He could try to run past Shizuo, but he didn't think he'd be able to make it.

"What makes you say that, Shizu-chan? There's no way I'd be killed by such a brainless monster," he replied, trying to remain as composed as possible.

"It seems you're the brainless one, flea. Why'd you stop so suddenly back there?" Shizuo asked, and forcefully pushed him against a wall.

Izaya's shoulder was on fire. An involuntary gasp escaped from his throat.

"That's none of your business Shizu-chan."

Shizuo drew back a fist and punched him right in the shoulder. He howled, and pathetically slumped to the ground.

"This isn't like you," said Shizuo in an almost disappointed tone.

Izaya let out a short laugh and then sighed. _Maybe this really is the end of me,_ he thought.

All of a sudden, something else caught the faux-bartender's attention, and he turned his head to the left. There was something on the ground and above it was a white circle with "WG" scrawled in the middle. Izaya couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before.

The curiosity got the best of Shizuo and he went over to take a closer look at whatever was lying on the ground. It looked like a lumpy, rolled up carpet. When he got closer, he stopped suddenly and squatted, straining his eyes at the dark figure below. When he figured out what it was, he gritted his teeth.

Sticking out of the carpet was a pale, bloodied foot.


	5. A Cold Alleyway

**A/N: Sorry this took me forever to write. I'm blaming it on the fact that I just recently graduated from school. Also, I had awful writer's block. If that doesn't continue, I should be updating more frequently!**

**As always, thank you and enjoy!**

"What will you do now, Shizu-chan?" Asked Izaya, his mouth turned up slightly in an amused smirk. He winced as pain radiated from his shoulder down to his fingertips, but still managed to focus most of his attention on the grimacing man in front of him. Izaya was fascinated by how Shizuo's expression changed as his tiny brain processed this new information. He was angry. He was always angry. However, even Izaya could admit that he was not without morals, at least when it came to innocent people. From his place on the frigid, damp ground, he considered his enemy's options, and knew within seconds what would happen next.

_He will be extremely angry because he won't be able to kill me today_, Izaya thought, _He'll probably punch something. He'll probably yell, and maybe even curse. He'll curse me, himself, the world, and maybe even the poor person rolled up in the carpet…and then he'll call someone. Shinra? Maybe Tom?_

Just then, Shizuo let out a guttural scream and punched the wall across from the body. About ten or so bricks were dislodged and fell onto the ground below with a loud clang. He pulled his hand away, and seemed unbothered by the blood that was now streaming from his skin. He glanced at Izaya once more and with clenched teeth, pulled a phone out of his pocket. Izaya let out a short laugh, amused by how predictable this monstrous man truly was.

"Hello?" Said Shizuo into the phone, his voice terse and husky. Izaya could hear an energetic, questioning voice emitting from the receiver. The grin on his face widened.

"I have a situation...It's a person or maybe just a body…What? No!...I can't…Look, I'm across from Ekimae Park in an alley, just send her, okay?"

When Shizuo hung up the phone, Izaya could still hear Shinra's voice prattling on from the other end.

"You didn't mention me. That really hurts, you know!'

"Shut up. You should be thankful that I'm not killin' you today." Izaya watched as Shizuo crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

For once, a silence bloomed between them. Shizuo took out a cigarette, placed it carefully between his lips and lit it. After inhaling deeply, he exhaled and the two of them watched as smoke twisted its way up to the sky. Izaya always hated the stale, dirty smell of cigarette smoke. Even he couldn't be sure if this was because of the smell itself or because the smell reminded him of Shizuo. He let out a loud, dramatic cough, which earned him an angry stare in return. Izaya briefly wondered if Shizuo would change his mind and kill him before Celty arrived. He stared at the cigarette, expecting it to be bent and thrown upon the ground in a fit of rage, but it remained straight, clasped between two of Shizuo's fingers.

"I'm letting you go. Leave."

"I'm pretty sure I'll be needing a doctor for this shoulder of mine," Izaya said, relaxing his head against the wall behind him, "besides, I'm as curious about this as you are."

"I'm not curious, I'm doing the right thing."

"I wouldn't say that calling an underground doctor is doing the right thing, Shizu-chan," he paused, and looked directly into the eyes of his enemy, "the right thing would have been to call the police, right?"

"You bastard," he replied through clenched teeth, "you know why I couldn't have done that."

"Well, I suppose you are a monster, after all. Considering those crimes you've committed—"

Izaya stopped mid sentence, as he watched Shizuo bend his cigarette and crush it under his shoe. He strode over to him and in one fluid motion, picked him off the ground by his collar. As he was slammed into the wall again, Izaya felt his shoulder throb with sheer agony.

"Listen here you flea, if you don't shut up, I'll beat the shit out of you right here and now."

The seriousness in his voice didn't surprise Izaya, but he felt his heart begin to race again. Maybe he should have left when he had the chance, but there were many things that had made him want to stay. One was that the person in the rug had to be related to the graffiti somehow. Also, he was curious. He was always curious about what was going on around him. Although he had an obligation to Shiki to find out what was happening, he also wanted—no—_needed_ to know every detail of his beloved city. Thirdly, he enjoyed egging Shizuo on when it was clear he wouldn't be killed for doing so. As serious as he sounded, Izaya knew that he wouldn't dare kill him in front of Celty.

As if on cue, a black motorbike sped into the alleyway, and stopped just mere feet away from them. Shizuo let go of Izaya's shirt and walked toward the jumpsuit-clad woman who had just dismounted from the bike. Izaya braced himself against the wall, barely able to stand, and watched as she took out her phone, typed something, and showed it to Shizuo. He shook his head in response. Celty transformed her bike into a carriage and used her shadows to place the body inside. She typed something else to Shizuo, and he replied in a quiet mumble before getting into the carriage.

When Celty reluctantly made her way over to Izaya and shoved her phone in his face, there were only two words on the screen:

"Get in."


	6. The Good Doctor

**A/N: Like I said last time, hopefully I can update this as frequently as possible.**

**As always, thanks for reading, and enjoy!**

The ride from the alleyway to Shinra's office was short and silent. Izaya was forced to sit next to Shizuo in the carriage because the carpet-clad body was taking up the entire seat in front of them. They sat as far away from each other as possible, their shoulders pressed up against the windows, their legs squeezed together in front of them so that not even a fiber of their clothing would press up against the other. As tense as the atmosphere was, Izaya enjoyed the silence. It gave him time to think. All of a sudden, it struck him how they should have at least inspected the body before Celty put it in the carriage. For a moment, he felt sick at the fact that whoever was in front of him could be either dead or alive.

_Schrödinger's human_, he thought, as an amused grin appeared on his face. Izaya loved a good mystery, especially when it was a mystery that involved his precious humans.

His mind wandered further as he contemplated the meaning behind all the graffiti he had been seeing that day. He had been in the city only four days prior, and yet, he hadn't seen anything like it. Then there was the mystery of Shiki's two murdered men. They had been killed only two days ago. Whoever these people were, they had just appeared very recently. Izaya figured that there were two possibilities: either these groups surfaced on a whim, or everything that had happened over the past few days had been meticulously planned out over a period of time. The latter seemed more likely to him, but before he had a chance to ponder it further, Celty was pulling up to the back door of Shinra's office.

The doctor himself came bursting out of the door mere seconds later, hurried over to Celty's side, and wrapped both arms around her.

"Celty! Are you all right? I'm s sorry that you had to deal with these id-"

He was cut off when Celty untangled herself from his embrace, and shoved her phone in his face, just an inch away from his glasses. She then motioned with her hand, and the body drifted out of the carriage, being supported by her shadows.

"Oh, right! This way!" He called over his shoulder, as he disappeared back inside. Celty followed him, with the body in tow. Both of them had completely ignored Shizuo and Izaya, and they wordlessly decided to follow them, despite not being invited.

Soon, all four of them stood over the body in a small, stuffy examination room. Izaya hated the smell of hospitals. They always managed to reek of disinfectant, while also smelling stale and stagnant. Shinra's underground practice was no exception.

After Shinra scolded them for not even thinking of inspecting the body, he carefully began to unravel the person from the carpet. Izaya felt his heart began to race, as beads of sweat appeared on the back of his neck. His face, however, betrayed nothing, and he thought that the other three were probably feeling the same way he was: slightly anxious, yet curious.

The person wrapped in the carpet turned out to be a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, with short, black hair and thin, pale lips. She was wearing a pair of black jeans, a dark blue shirt with purple sleeves, and no shoes. The left side of her head and hair was caked with blood, as were her left shoulder and sleeve. Shinra immediately checked to see if she had a heartbeat, and his eyes widened with shock.

"She's still alive."

"Really?" Shizuo, of all people, asked in a disbelieving tone.

"I'll need you all to leave," replied Shinra in an unusually serious voice, "I need to start working on her right away. She may be alive, but her heartbeat and breathing are extremely faint."

Celty ushered them into a waiting room, and then left with only a brief text explaining that she had a job, and urging them not to kill each other in a hospital.

"Do you _really _think that little of me?" Asked Izaya. He received no response.

When a silence overtook the waiting room, Izaya realized for the first time since the alleyway how much pain his shoulder was still in. At one point, a particularly painful spasm ripped down his arm, and he let out an involuntary gasp. When he glanced as Shizuo, he couldn't help but notice that he was smiling. Izaya wanted to call him out on it, but he needed to see Shinra and there's no way he would help him if they destroyed his waiting room.

"Why are you still here, Shizu-chan?"

"I want to make sure that woman's okay. Besides," he paused, looking Izaya right in the eye, "maybe Shinra will let me watch as he sets that dislocated shoulder of yours. It would be good to see you in pain."

"If that's so true, then why didn't you finish me off earlier when you had the chance? Before we noticed the body, you had plenty of time to beat me into a bloody pulp, but you didn't. In fact, I consider myself lucky that I got off with just a shoulder injury, wouldn't you?"

Izaya watched as Shizuo clenched his fists in his lap and turned his attention away from him. He thought he saw a faint blush bloom on his cheeks, but he convinced himself that he must be seeing things. Other than that, Shizuo appeared to have no response to Izaya's question, and silence overtook the room again.

It was another hour before Shinra poked his head in.

"She's stable and resting now. She's not out of the woods, but I think she'll make it."

"That's good news," said Shizuo.

"Very good news! Now, my dear friend, would you mind fixing this shoulder of mine? I ran into a monster earlier, and he cruelly tore it apart."

Again, there was no response from Shizuo, but Shinra reluctantly indicated that Izaya should follow him. When Shizuo got up too, Shinra stopped him with an apology, stating that even Izaya deserved doctor—patient confidentiality.

"Can you take your coat off?" Asked Shinra when they were inside an examination room.

Izaya managed to take off his right sleeve before cautiously sliding his left sleeve off of his shoulder. Blood had seeped through his shirt and onto his coat. Silently, he hoped he could get the stain out. That was his favorite coat, after all.

"How about your shirt?"

Izaya tried, but the pain was too strong, and he couldn't lift it over his head. With a sigh, Shinra helped him.

His shoulder was in an even worse state than he had thought. The blood had stopped, but had streamed all the way down to his elbow in thick, pained rivulets. Bruises had already started forming on both the front and back of his shoulder, and just like Shizuo had said, it was definitely dislocated. Shinra came to the same conclusion, and informed him that he needed to reset the joint right away.

Surprisingly, the information broker had never had a dislocated shoulder before, so he couldn't have had any idea just how painful it was to get it reset. After Shinra made him lay down, and snapped it back into place, Izaya convulsed and let out a agonizing scream. All of his nerves felt like they were on fire. It felt like someone had stabbed him, and he wondered if he would vomit. After the massive wave of pain and nausea had subsided, his breathing became labored and heavy.

"Rough, huh? I've heard before that a dislocated shoulder is close to the pain level that giving birth is. I wonder if that's true."

"You're a bit of a sadist aren't you, Shinra?" He asked, in between deep breaths.

The doctor just smiled in response, before asking Izaya to sit up. He cleaned the wound and the rest of his stained skin, and carefully bandaged the area.

"These should be changed every day. Make sure to put disinfectant on, as well. You're lucky that it won't need stitches."

He helped Izaya get dressed, and then fitted him with a sling.

"You should wear this for at least three weeks, and avoid strenuous activity. I could ask Shizuo to lay off you, but what you should really do is go back to Shinjuku and disappear for awhile."

"You know very well that I can't do that."

"Can't or won't?"

After handing him a couple bottles of anti-inflammatory medicine, and a couple bottles of painkillers, Shinra told him to get out.

"I need to speak with that girl."

"There's no way she can talk to anyone right now."

"Give me a call when she can, why don't you?"

"Why should I?"

"You're my oldest friend. Friends do each other favors, right?"

Shinra reached his hand out in front of him, palm facing upward. He opened and closed it a couple times, with a toothy grin displayed prominently against his face.

"Seriously?"

"You don't do anything for free either, right"

Izaya reluctantly took a few bills from his wallet and placed them on Shinra's palm. He watched, slightly annoyed, as the doctor counted the money before placing it into the pocket of his lab coat, seemingly satisfied with the amount.

"Don't worry, I'll be billing you for your treatment as well."

Izaya spun on his heel and walked out of the examination room. When he stepped outside, he was surprised to see that it was already dark. His phone displayed a time of 6:16p.m, and also informed him that he had a couple dozen emails that needed attention. A grin appeared on his face, as he pulled his hood over his head.

_What would this city do without me?_


	7. Gathering

When Izaya returned to his apartment, the graffiti had been carefully scrubbed off of his front door. Namie must have had the good sense to clean it up, as he had forgotten to text her about it. Suddenly, an alarm began blaring in his mind, and he slid his flick blade into his hand. It had occurred to him that Namie wasn't necessarily the person who had cleansed the graffiti from his entryway. If she hadn't, the person who did could very well be waiting for him inside. He had been so consumed with other thoughts on his way home, that he had almost completely forgotten that he himself could be in danger. Cautiously, he unlocked his door and stepped inside.

The room was completely dark, and completely quiet. Namie had probably left at least an hour beforehand. After Izaya flicked on the light, he became almost positive that he was alone, but he still kept the knife in his right hand, just in case. The sling had already begun to annoy him. He had managed to unlock the door with his left hand, but it was virtually useless, and if someone were to attack him, he would be at a serious disadvantage. As he made his way through his apartment, a piece of paper on his desk suddenly caught his eye.

_You're not paying me for manual labor. I expect a bonus. _

_-Namie_

He smiled with relief, and sank into his desk chair. It had been awhile since he had been so on edge. Immediately, he turned on his computer and plugged his phone into one of the USB ports. All of the pictures he had taken day began to flash across his screen. He first saw the menacing, black line painted across his own door, binary code scrawled above it in crooked, dark strokes. He immediately brought up a binary to text converter and typed in the sequence of zeroes and ones.

"BH" was what the converter returned, and Izaya opened a Word document where he began to compile the photos and the new information he was discovering. After, he opened up his email and clicked on one that Shiki had sent him hours prior.

Along with a short, vague message, including a rough estimate regarding compensation, Shiki had also included copies of the photographs he had shown him earlier that day. Izaya replied, saying that the compensation would be fine, and also included a couple photographs of his defaced door. Typing out the email took longer with one hand, and he hoped that he wouldn't have to write anything too extensive over the next few weeks.

After answering a few other emails, he pulled up the Dollars website, and began scrolling through the message boards. There were a few posts that caught his eye, but nothing involving BH, WG, Shiki's murdered men, or the girl in the carpet. He was slightly surprised at this. Whenever a new gang or two popped up in Ikebukuro, there were usually dozens of posts about it. Now, he had a few things to consider. He could post something himself, but the people involved with the graffiti clearly knew who Izaya was. That didn't mean they knew who he was online, but the possibility of that was very much alive. Shiki had also wanted to keep the murders of his men as secret as possible and if he violated that wish, his relationship with the Awakusu could turn sour. As far as the girl in the carpet, he wanted to talk to her personally, and besides that, he didn't see how posting about her would be helpful, anyway.

With a frustrated sigh, he turned back to the pictures. Izaya now had four separate examples of the graffiti: Shiki's photos, his door, the WG above the carpet-clad girl, and the circle and line by the alleyway where she was found. The last example was the one that interested him the most, as it didn't seem to be directed at a specific person or group. The photo itself was slightly blurry, as he had been running from Shizuo at the time, but it was still easy to see the white circle and black line painted onto the bricks of the building. Inside the circle was the "WG" and above the black line was the same string of binary that had been pained onto his door that very morning. After a moment of consideration, Izaya turned back to the Dollars page, wrote up a brief post, attached the picture, and uploaded it to the message board under the subject: _New gangs in Ikebukuro?!_

He knew that this move wasn't necessarily safe, but he wanted to use the Dollars to his advantage, and this was definitely the least risky way of doing so.

He stretched his right arm over his head and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost ten o'clock, and he figured that he had time to do a little more research before bed. He logged onto the chatroom.

_Kanra: Good evening!_

_Tanaka Taro: Evening!_

_Setton: Evening. _

_Tanaka Taro: So, this is everyone here tonight?! I'm surprised._

_Kanra: Are we not good enough? That's so mean!_

_Tanaka Taro: Huh? That's…that's not what I mean. _

_Kanra: Hey! Have you guys seen any weird graffiti around, recently? I saw it everywhere today, and it was really freaking me out!_

_Setton: Graffiti? I don't think I have. _

_Tanaka Taro: Me either…_

_Kanra: Better keep an eye out for it! I think a new gang might be in Ikebukuro. _

Izaya could picture the panicked expression that had certainly appeared on Mikado's face after he read that last sentence. The Dollars leader already had enough to worry about, and a new gang or two would definitely make his life more difficult.

_Tanaka Taro: I better go._

After Mikado signed off, Celty followed, and Izaya happily closed out of the chat room and shut down his computer. Although he hadn't found out anything of use, he had certainly got the ball rolling, and was sure that by the time he woke up he would have all sorts of information.

Just as Izaya stood up, someone knocked on his door.


	8. Unraveled

**A/N Thank you all for the kind words and support! Enjoy!**

When Izaya had first heard the knock, he wondered if he was imagining it. Everything that had occurred earlier in the day had exhausted his usually ever-moving mind, and he found himself feeling achy and unfocused. Although he was usually so sharp and alert, this wouldn't be the first time that his mind had played tricks on him. There had been several times that he had overworked himself, usually when he was consumed by an assignment, or had a particularly violent clash with Shizuo. Truly, he would be the first to admit how fragile human sanity could be. Just a night or two without sleep could cause hallucinations, both visual and auditory. Despite the fact that he did sleep the previous night, he knew he was exhausted; he knew that he needed sleep in order to be able to work the next day. He sighed. Pleased with the explanation he had come up with, Izaya took a step toward his bedroom, but stopped when a second bout of knocking echoed throughout the apartment.

This series of knocks had shifted his sluggish mind into a state of alertness. It had gone from thinking only of sleep, to dashing from thought to thought in a desperate attempt to formulate a plan. Lists of names, faces, motives, and information danced and twirled through his brain with such clarity, that Izaya thought he could see the words stretch out before his eyes, as if they were tangible: _Arata, blackmailed, Daichi, framed, Inari, defamed._ There were so many people that could be knocking on his door; it would take forever to sift through them all. A part of him even wondered if Shizuo was standing outside, although he quickly tossed that theory aside. If it were him, the door would have already been ripped off its hinges.

Still, he had to admit that regardless of who was actually at the door, they had the clear advantage if they were looking to finish him off. His left shoulder throbbed under the bandages; his arm remained cradled and useless in the sling. Things were not looking good. His eyes turned to his cell phone, which was lying on top of his desk, just next to his keyboard, its blank, dark screen only made him feel more anxious. There was no one that Izaya Orihara could call for backup, well, at least not for free, and even if there was, he didn't have the time. As a precaution, he slid the phone into his pocket anyway.

A third round of knocking. This one was louder, more urgent than the previous two. At this point, Izaya knew that he had to open it. If he didn't, the person could very well break the door down and cause a scene, and that was the last thing he wanted. Making sure his knife was concealed, unopened in his palm, he cautiously walked to the front door and put his eye up to the peephole. Darkness was all he saw. With a resigned sigh, he opened the door just a crack, deciding not to undo the chain, just yet.

"Can I help you?" He asked, glaring though the crack in an attempt to figure out just who this person was.

"There is no need for this chain, Mr. Orihara. I am just here to speak with you, that is all."

The voice belonged to a man. It wasn't particularly deep, nor was it particularly high, but there was a certain bounce to it, an affable bounce that no doubt was supposed to make him appear trustworthy. If anyone knew how important a charming tone was, it was Izaya. After all, before you can manipulate someone, you have to get them to like or—at the very least—trust you.

The hallway was too dark to see anything. The man had pressed four pale fingers in between the door and its frame, and was lightly gripping the wood, showing that he demanded to be seen, but did not want Izaya to think that he had violent intentions. He knew this type of person all too well, and knew instantly that this unexpected visitor of his was using tactics that he himself would use if he happened to be a more physically abrasive person.

Izaya unchained the door and took a step back before opening it completely.

The man in front of Izaya was slightly shorter than himself, and was dressed in all black. Despite his monochrome fashion sense, he was dressed quite nicely. His black boots were shined and unmarked, his dress pants had been ironed, and his collared shirt, tie, and thin jacket were unwrinkled and clean. There were only two things that seemed odd. A black beanie sat atop of his head, so that no hair stuck out from underneath, with the exception of a tiny, light-brown strand that had slipped out above his right temple. The other strange thing is what Izaya was really focused on. His entire face, with the exception of his eyes, was completely bandaged. He couldn't help but wonder how this man was breathing and speaking normally. The man, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by this. Despite the bandages, Izaya could tell by the creases under his dark eyes that he was grinning.

"Aren't you going to invite me to sit? Or perhaps offer me a cup of tea?"

"If I offered you tea, would you even drink it?"

The man chuckled, and decided to take a seat on Izaya's couch. Reluctantly, Izaya took a seat opposite of him on a chair. He usually liked to take the couch for himself whenever he dealt with visitors. He thought a larger seat made him appear more intimidating, more in control of whatever situation he found himself in. Sitting in chair made him feel oddly claustrophobic and restrained.

"Are you going to introduce yourself?" Izaya asked after a few seconds of uncomfortable, almost ominous silence.

"Yes, of course," replied the man, as he crossed one leg over the other, "I cannot tell you my real name—which shouldn't be a surprise to you—but you can call me, Akito."

"That's pretty informal, wouldn't you say, Akito?"

"That may be true, but you're an expert in these kind of things, aren't you? Considering I just barged into your apartment at ten o'clock on a weeknight without an invitation, would you say that I find significance in formality?"

"You make a good point," said Izaya, a slight grin emerging on his face. This man, this "Akito," was certainly a mystery; a mystery that Izaya intended to solve. His mind was now whirring along, tying to save details about this man: his attire, his manner of speaking, and his movements, to memory. It was always the little things that gave people away.

"What do you want to speak with me about?"

"That's certainly a loaded question, Izaya—can I call you Izaya?—There are many things that need discussing, but, I'd like to start with your recent activity on the Dollars website."

"Oh? What about it? I wasn't aware that some innocent lurking on a message board would really be something that a color gang would be concerned about."

At this, Izaya thought a bit of surprise or shock would appear, even briefly, in Akito's eyes. However, his face betrayed nothing. He was still, one leg still propped up on the other, shoulders relaxed, with hands folded in his lap. It was obvious that this man was somehow involved in the gang-related activities that Izaya had seen just that very day. Maybe he was even the one who had spray painted his door, or killed Shiki's men.

"Look, enough about me, let's talk about you," Akito said suddenly serious, ignoring Izaya's comments. He abruptly slipped a gun out of a holster that had been hidden on his left side, behind his jacket.

"I thought you were just here to talk."

"I am, but threating is a form of talking, isn't it? I don't plan on shooting you, at least not tonight, Izaya. I have orders not to, you see," he paused and used his free hand to scratch at the back of his neck, "I need you to be honest with me, as I have it on good authority that you've been doing things that my boss has some problems with."

Izaya's tongue squirmed. There were a lot of questions he wanted to ask, but knew he shouldn't. At best, he'd get silence, and at worst, he'd probably get a bullet in the foot.

"Tell me, Akito, are you a curious person?"

"I involve myself in things that concern me, my boss, and my colleagues. Nothing more."

"I just don't understand that way of thinking. These days, humans have so many ways to learn new things. Why wouldn't you want to learn as much as you can? Especially about the city you live in, and about the people who live in that city. Information is important and—to be frank, Akito—it's also how I happen to make a living."

Akito was silent. Izaya couldn't be sure if he was pondering over what he had just said, or if he was trying to come up with another question. Either way, a tension had eased itself into the atmosphere around them.

"As much as I don't want to deprive a man from doing his job, that is the job that I have been tasked to do," Akito said, stroking his chin thoughtfully over the bandages, "or maybe, that's not quite right…you see, you're still welcome to look into matters that don't involve my superior."

"And who is this superior of yours?" Asked Izaya. After yet another moment of silence, he decided to hazard asking something different.

"Are you with 'BH' or 'WG'? Or, are perhaps both? _Or_ are they actually the same thing?"

"BH," He replied, suddenly candid, "I won't be telling you much, but I will tell you that you should stay away from looking into BH and WG, if you want to live. That includes Shiki's men, and that girl you found in the alleyway earlier."

"So, you're tracking me in real life, and online, then."

"That is correct."

"Tell me something. What is the point of a color gang who doesn't want to be noticed by other people? Isn't that kind of the point?"

"Just because we don't want to be noticed now, doesn't mean we don't want to be at some point in the future."

Akito stood, arms at his side, still holding the gun in one hand. For a brief second, Izaya's heart stopped, and the grin that he had been wearing vanished off of his face. He saw something change in the man's dark eyes. They had narrowed and had grown cold somehow.

"I told you that we'd just be talking today, information broker, but that was actually a lie. There is something else I require."

He took a few steps toward Izaya, who stood, and cautiously flicked his knife open.

"Bringing a knife to a gunfight?"

"I thought you had orders not to shoot me."

"Who said anything about shooting you?"

Akito lunged forward, the butt of his gun facing forward. Izaya used his good arm to deflect his attack, and slashed at his face, hoping to slice off the bandages. However, Akito was too fast and managed to easily dodge his knife every time. Izaya's shoulder throbbed. His breathing quickly grew labored. His poor physical condition had forced him to be defensive, and he spent most of the time dodging Akito's gun by moving backward. His living room wasn't all that big, and he knew that he'd eventually wind up cornered.

"You're doing much better than I thought you'd do in your condition. I'm impressed."

Izaya said nothing; he was too focused on not getting his head bashed in. At one point, he managed to duck and used this opportunity to slash upward at Akito's chest. The blade sliced through his shirt and through the skin below. It wasn't a deep cut by any means, but Izaya felt proud of himself for a brief moment. However, Akito didn't seem to notice, and instead, used Izaya's low position to his advantage. In one swift motion, he brought his gun down, hard, on top of his head.

Izaya crumpled to the floor. He struggled for a moment to stay conscious, but soon, everything faded to black.


	9. The Bright Room

**A/N I'm going on vacation in a couple days, so the next update will probably take a little longer than usual. Sorry about that!  
As always, thank you for your support. Enjoy!**_

When Izaya awoke, he couldn't open his eyes. Even though he was engulfed in darkness behind his eyelids, he could tell that he was no longer in his apartment. This room reeked. It reeked of ammonia, dried blood, and iodine. He knew where he was instantly. An annoyed sigh escaped his dry and stale-tasting mouth as he slowly attempted to crack his eyes open. The sheer brightness of the room was too much for him, and the sheer nausea that came over him forced him to shut his eyes. Trying not to vomit, he focused what he could feel against his skin. Sheets. They were thin, but cool and surprisingly comforting. Izaya stretched his tired legs outward, and flexed his toes. They were now the only part of his body that wasn't aching. Although, his shoulder and head didn't hurt as much as he had expected.

Just as Izaya began pondering whether or not he should let someone know that he was awake, he felt a presence enter the room. The clacking of the person's shoes against the floor possessed a somewhat light and bouncy tone. Izaya frowned.

"Hey! You awake?"

"I suppose I am, Shinra," he paused, "although I can't seem to open my eyes."

"That's to be expected. You do have a minor concussion, and you lost a pretty decent amount of blood."

Izaya wasn't surprised to hear this. Despite his injuries, his memory seemed to be in good condition. His fight with Akito played through his mind vividly. When he thought of how Akito hit him on the head with his gun, a shudder went through his body, and his head throbbed.

"I put you on some pretty strong painkillers, though, so you should be feeling okay right now," he paused, "also, you needed a few stitches, so don't touch those bandages on your head!"

Izaya slowly nodded. Silence temporarily overtook the room, but after a moment, he could hear the sound of Shinra dragging a chair over to his bedside.

"So, how did it happen?"

Izaya contemplated if he should tell Shinra the truth or not. He rarely trusted anyone with information regarding his cases, but didn't see any harm in telling Shinra about Akito. After all, he hadn't even seen his face, and didn't even know his real name. All he knew was that he was a member of BH, and that BH wasn't happy with Izaya for trying to dig up information on them. For a brief moment, he thought of Shiki and how he really needed to contact him with the basic, yet important, things he had uncovered. After all of these thoughts filtered through his mind, he told Shinra what happened.

"Hm," said Shinra after a moment, "you're lucky Shizuo found you when he did."

Izaya could feel his mouth fall open. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so shocked. _What was that monster doing in my apartment? Had he come to finally kill me? No…if he had wanted to, he could have finished me off while I was unconscious..._

"Wow," Shinra said with a very amused tone, "you're actually speechless! When was the last time I saw the great Izaya Orihara speechless? Could it have been back in middle school? You know, when y—"

"That's quite enough. Please explain what _he_ was doing in my apartment."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure he'll want to explain that to you himself."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

It had been the second time in less than 24 hours that Shizuo had had the opportunity to finish him off, but decided not to. He wasn't sure what Shizuo's reasons were, but made a mental note to figure them out. Izaya briefly wondered if he himself had grown weaker somehow. It was unlike him to get injured at all, never mind twice in one day. No. He knew he was as physically and mentally strong as ever. What had happened to him recently was just a fluke, or perhaps a result of him being too consumed by the case he was working on. He knew he needed to be more careful.

"Well, he's here right now, and I think he wants answers. Should I bring him in."

"No," Izaya said with a strange urgency that had surprised even him, "I'd like to meet with him in one of your offices, if possible."

"Can you even open your eyes, yet?"

"Just give me a few minutes. Are my clothes here somewhere?"

"Yeah, they're next to you, although your shirt has blood on it…"

"That's fine. I'll come to your office after I've changed."

Izaya heard Shinra stand, put the chair back where it had been, and walk toward the door. He stopped in the doorframe and abruptly turned on his heel.

"Oh! I forgot to tell you. That girl woke up about an hour before you got here."

Izaya sat up a little too quickly. His head protested, and he struggled to not fall back down. His heart pounded. His breath caught in his throat, but he hardly paid attention to any of that.

"I need to speak to her."

Shinra left without responding, and Izaya cautiously tried to open his eyes again. Although the room was still impossibly bright, he managed to keep them open this time. The pounding in his head got worse. He dreaded how he would feel when the painkillers wore off.

Izaya swung his legs over the side of the bed and slowly stood, trying to gauge how much his balance had been disrupted by the blow to his head. He felt the nausea return, but was determined to not throw up. He untied the cloth robe that he had been dressed in, and started putting on his familiar set of clothing: black, long-sleeved shirt, dark jeans, simple belt, and sturdy shoes. The only thing missing was his jacket. He hadn't been wearing it during his fight with Akito. He became annoyed with the fact that he'd eventually have to deal with the frigid, winter air without his coat.

Izaya checked his pockets for his phone, but came up empty. He was sure that he had put his cell in his pocket before his altercation with Akito, and was now worried that it had been stolen. There was a possibility that it has fallen out during their fight, but he wouldn't know until he returned home. Strangely enough, however, there was a piece of paper in his front left pocket. When he pulled it out, he saw that it was a piece of blank, lined paper which could have very well come from his own desk. When he unfolded it, he saw that only one word had been written on it. It was in all caps, in untidy handwriting, bisected by one of the many lines on the page. It may have only been one word, but Izaya stared at it for a long time. His veins gradually turned to ice, but he wasn't quite sure why.

Eventually, he neatly folded up the paper, slid it back into his pocket, and walked into the hallway.

Every time he blinked he could see the word, clear as day, scrawled on the inside of his eyelids:

_PROJECTION_


	10. Questions

**A/N: Sorry that this took a bit longer to update than usual! I tried to upload it yesterday, but the site was having some issues.  
Thank you, and enjoy! **

After Izaya staggered to Shinra's office, he was guided into a smaller office where Shizuo was waiting for him. He sat behind an old wooden desk, which was bare except for a few papers that had carelessly been strewn off to the left side, most likely by Shizuo himself. Another chair, seemingly constructed out of rusty metal and green plastic, sat unoccupied on the other side of the desk. Izaya took a seat and frowned at the man in front of him. Shizuo was wearing his usual bartender getup, and had his arms crossed over his chest. He looked just as unhappy as Izaya felt. He suspected that they were both thinking the same thing: _Why do I have to talk to such an idiot?_

Izaya also noticed that Shizuo was a bit disheveled. There was a scratch that ran across his left cheekbone, his bowtie was askew, and a white bandage encircled the knuckles on his right hand. He immediately became torn between three feelings that had appeared, uninvited, in his mind: anger, because of his current situation, curiosity, because of Shizuo's appearance, and something else that he couldn't quite figure out. After an uncomfortable, awkward silence, Izaya decided to speak:

"So? What could a monster, such as yourself, want with me?"

"You're not even going to thank me for saving your worthless life?"

Izaya watched as Shizuo's mouth pulled back in a grimace. He knew that getting Shizuo angry wouldn't solve anything. In fact, it would probably just result in the destruction of the tiny office, and cause Shinra to become enraged, which would result in him most likely preventing Izaya from seeing the girl. He couldn't have that.

"Why did you do it, anyway?"

Shizuo didn't respond right away, and closed his eyes, seemingly, in thought, although Izaya doubted that he had the ability to actually do that. After the silence continued longer than was natural, Izaya decided to ask a different question.

"Why did you go to my apartment?"

"I was attacked, just a few hours ago. I figured you might know who was behind it. I figured that you were behind it. When I saw you were injured, I called Celty. After all, you couldn't have answered my questions if you had died."

"What brilliant reasoning skills, Shizu-chan!"

"Insult my intelligence all you want," Shizuo paused, and looked Izaya straight in the eye, "it won't change the fact that we clearly have a problem on our hands."

Izaya pressed his mouth into a hard line. He wouldn't admit it, but he was slightly taken aback at Shizuo's suddenly serious tone of voice. He was his enemy; his monstrous enemy that couldn't control his emotions or volatile personality. Everything always turned into a fight with him. It was just the way he was. He wasn't human, after all. _However,_ he thought, _maybe he's become rather good at imitating humanity._

"Alright then," Izaya sighed, "if you're willing to look past our hatred for one another, I suppose I can, as well."

Shizuo gritted his teeth, but remained silent.

"Let's start with what happened to you. You said you were attacked, and suspect that I'm the one behind it."

"When it happened, I did think that. I thought that maybe you had decided to try and finish me off because of what happened earlier…"

"You don't think that I'm behind it anymore?"

"No. I have a feeling that your attackers and my own are connected somehow. We were attacked at the same time, and that's too strong of a coincidence to ignore."

"You said, 'attackers,' but I was only attacked by one person. What did your attackers look like? How many of them were there?"

Shizuo brought up a hand to his chin, and averted his eyes upward. A small wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows, and his foot, which he had been tapping against the floor, was now motionless. It occurred to Izaya that this was the calmest he had ever seen Shizuo. It occurred to him that this was the first time he had ever seen the monster think instead of act. Again, a curious feeling emerged in his mind, but before he could analyze it, Shizuo spoke again.

"There were three. They were dressed completely in white, except for their hair. All of them had dark hair, and were wearing white gloves. None of them were strong enough to actually beat me, but they did get a few good punches in."

"Did they talk to you at all? Give you their names?"

Shizuo shook his head.

At that very moment the door behind Izaya swung open to reveal Shinra. Dark circles were forming under his eyes, but a grin was plastered across his face, all the same.

"Sorry to interrupt, but the girl says she's willing to speak to you both now."

Both Izaya and Shizuo stood up hastily, in unison, and followed Shinra out of the room and down the hall. After a moment, he stopped in front of a door and turned to face them.

"Look, she isn't in great shape or anything, but she was kind enough to agree to answer your questions. Don't press her too hard," he put his hand on the doorknob, "I've asked Celty to stay in there, so don't try anything funny."

The last few words were clearly meant for Izaya, who Shinra had been glaring at the whole time. _Even after all these years_, thought Izaya, _he still doesn't trust me._

Shinra opened to door to reveal a room identical to the one Izaya had been in less than an hour prior. Sure enough, Celty was sitting at the girl's bedside, hands placed neatly in her lap. The girl herself was laying down, but was propped up slightly on the two pillows behind her head. An IV stood to her left, and a few bilking and beeping monitors stood to her right. Her skin was pale. Her eyes were closed. However, even Izaya could tell that she looked much better than she had just mere hours before. He watched as the blankets rose and fell with every slow, steady breath she took.

"Miss Sugiyama? Are you awake?" Asked Shinra

"Yes," replied a quiet voice.

"I've brought the two men who wish to speak with you. Is now still a good time?"

"Yes," she replied, with a slightly stronger voice. Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared Shizuo and Izaya with caution.

Shinra left the room, and Celty pulled up two chairs so that Izaya and Shizuo could sit at her bedside. Izaya knew that this was smart, as they would appear less threatening sitting down. In addition, there was also a very real possibility that she had heard about them before, and if she had, that would certainly only frighten her further.

"Miss Sugiyama, is it? It's very nice to meet you," Izaya smiled his most comforting smile, "I'm Izaya Orihara."

He knew that it was of the utmost importance that humans feel comfortable when talking to someone new. Especially, when it was someone who they were already wary of. He had used this tactic countless times, and it almost always made people trust him. Of course, Izaya knew this was incredibly foolish of them, but it also made him happy. It was just another trait that made him love his precious humans even more.

Her expression changed. The corners of her mouth wearily shifted upward into a smile. Izaya could see that she no longer felt nervous, but safe. Her eyes shifted from Izaya's to Shizuo's.

"Uh, Shizuo Heiwajima. Nice to meet you."

"Tamayo Sugiyama," she replied, "I'm told you were the people who found me in the alleyway. I can't tell you how grateful I am."

"Don't mention it at all, Miss Sugiyama! We're just so happy that you're okay."

Izaya could see Shizuo squirm in the seat next to him. He knew how this game worked, after all. As much as it clearly pained him to do so, he appeared to be going along with what Izaya was saying. Izaya couldn't help but notice how easily they had slipped into this team of theirs. As enemies, they certainly knew a lot about each other, as strange as that seemed.

"Would you mind telling us a little bit about yourself? Do you happen to know who it was that hurt you? Don't strain yourself, of course!"

"It's no trouble, she replied, the weary smile never leaving her face, "I'll tell you all I know."

She took a breath, and shut her eyes for a moment before beginning her story:

"It all started when my half-brother joined the Awakusu…"


	11. Falling Pieces

**A/N: Hey, there! I am SO sorry that it took me this long to post a new chapter. I had a draft of one a few weeks ago, but decided I didn't like it. And a combination of that, writer's block, wifi problems, and the fact that I've been pretty busy recently has immensely delayed this. I decided enough was enough, and am now writing this while slightly intoxicated (as long as you edit sober, I think this is can actually be a pretty helpful practice from time to time.) Anyway, thank you for reading!**

Izaya listened to Tamayo's story with the utmost focus. His right leg crossed over his left, a hand thoughtfully supporting his chin, his sharp eyes never straying from her soft, tired face. In his peripheral vision, he could see that Shizuo was fidgeting; one of his legs bouncing up and down against the floor, arms crossed over his chest. He, too, was clearly paying attention, but in a less patient way. Izaya couldn't stop a slight smirk from blooming on his face. Whether or not Shizuo liked it, he was involved in this, with this girl and her near demise. The three of them had been targeted whether they liked it or not.

"Hiro was one of the nicest and most helpful people I've ever met, but…"

Tamayo inhaled deeply as a tiny wrinkle appeared in the space between her eyebrows. Her hands, balled up into fists, clutched at the thin, sterile blanket, as she slowly exhaled. When her eyes closed, Izaya wondered if she had slipped back into unconsciousness. After a moment however, her voice quietly returned with a weakened tone.

"I—I'm trying to find the right word, but I can't, um…he always went along with what other people would do, even if they were doing bad things."

"Easily influenced? Impressionable?" Izaya asked, his voice at the clearest and most calming tone he could muster.

"Impressionable. Yeah, that's a good way to describe him. When he was in high school, he would get in trouble all the time for helping his _friends_ cheat on tests," she paused, winded, "one time, he even took the fall for one of them when it was discovered he was selling drugs. "

Her voice had turned poisonous, dripping with blatant hatred and anger. Izaya couldn't stop his eyes from widening in surprise. Shizuo stopped bouncing his leg.

"It was because of that same _friend_ that he joined the Awakusu."

"What was his name?"

She turned her face away from them, her short hair fanning out against the pillow. A silence overtook the room, slipping over the four of them in a way that felt oddly necessary.

_Is she ashamed? Angry? Devastated? _Izaya was pretty sure it was a combination of the three. He knew that the pain of not being able to save a loved one was something that almost all of his precious humans had the capability to feel. This girl was no different.

"Hideki. Hideki Mizuno," she eventually murmured, malice present in every syllable.

Something sparked in Izaya's mind. The pieces were beginning to fall into place, and the smirk on his face widened even further. He instinctively reached into his pocket, a hand searching for his phone. It took him only another second to remember that it had vanished sometime in between his fight with Akito and his hospital awakening. Making a mental note to ask Shizuo about this after they were done with Tamayo, he uncrossed his legs and stood.

"Hiro Igurashi, right? He's your half-brother."

Tamayo's head snapped back over to look at him, her eyes wide and alert, the traces of sleepiness completely gone. Her lips were parted slightly, as if they wanted to move, but no longer knew how to speak.

"D-did you know him?" She finally asked.

Izaya shook his head, making another mental note to contact Shiki as soon as possible. His shoulder had begun to ache again, but he managed to hold back a grimace, as he continued speaking.

"I'm an information broker, Miss Sugiyama, and I've been tasked with figuring out what exactly happened to Hiro and his friend."

Her eyes narrowed at the word, "friend," her lips pulling downward in a frown.

"They're dead, aren't they?"

"I'm afraid so."

She exhaled, seemingly both in sadness and relief.

"I knew it," she paused for a moment, shutting her eyes, "when?"

"About three days ago. They were found in a car."

Izaya briefly wondered if she would break down upon hearing this. He could picture it: tears streaming down her face, choking sobs emitting from her throat, hands balled up against her face. In preparation, he began to formulate and rehearse a script in his head. He could be comforting. Everything she wanted to hear, he could give it to her. Instead, she surprised him by replying in a completely calm voice.

"WG? Was there a white circle on the car?"

"Yes."

"White Gloves," said Tamayo so quietly that Izaya had to ask her to repeat herself.

Still standing, his hand subconsciously reached for his pocket. This time, he realized his mistake more quickly, and silently cursed his carelessness. Why hadn't he hidden his phone before letting Akito in? He found some solace in the fact that his attacker wouldn't be able to get any information off of it, as it was extremely secure, but he was still annoyed. Everything on it was backed up, even his texts, but it was going to be a huge pain to set up a new phone. Besides, he needed one now. Every detail of what Tamayo was telling them needed to be documented, so he turned his attention to Shizuo.

"Give me your phone."

"What?"

"I need to write this down."

"Use your own goddamn phone."

"I don't have it. Did you happen to forget that I was knocked unconscious a few hours ago?"

Shizuo grunted, and refused to say anything more. Izaya could feel Celty's and Tamayo's eyes on him as he walked toward the sitting man, and crouched so that they were eye-to-eye. In response, Shizuo shut his eyes and tuned his head to the side.

"Hey, Shizu-chan, do you remember what we just talked about? The sooner you cooperate with me, the sooner we figure out who attacked you, and the sooner we can get back to trying to destroy each other. Doesn't that sound nice?"

After a moment, Shizuo reluctantly placed his phone in Izaya's upturned palm. The information broker noticed that a sly smile had plastered itself across his face.

"If you think I don't know your password, then think again."

"What?!"

"I already know it's your brother's birthday," said Izaya, while typing in the four numbers that—sure enough—unlocked his phone, "seriously, you're so transparent."

Izaya turned his back on him, and sat back down at Tamayo's bedside, ignoring the seething aura that had begun emanating from him. He opened up a blank email, and began typing as quickly as his thumb would allow.

"What do you know about the White Gloves, Miss Sugiyama?"


	12. Fools

"I had been looking into them for about a week before Hiro disappeared," said Tamayo, her eyes glancing downward at the tiled floor. The tone of her voice, while still serious, had taken on a sort of weariness. Her breathing had slowed. Every time she blinked, she kept her eyes closed for a longer period of time. Izaya wondered how much longer they had before Celty would kick them out.

"He told me about them, briefly, when we would talk on the phone, but he didn't seem to think they were much of a threat. Even so," she sighed, "I begged him to come home. He and _Hideki_ started living together in some seedy apartment shortly after he joined the Awakusu, and I thought he'd be safer if he moved out, but he refused."

"Do you know if he spoke to anyone else about this?" Izaya asked.

Tamayo shook her head. "I don't know the specifics, but Hiro was just a grunt, and he didn't want to bother his boss with a group that he didn't take seriously. He didn't tell me much either, just their name and the fact that he was having trouble figuring out who they were and what they wanted. In fact," she inhaled deeply, bringing her arm up to rest against her forehead, "the lack of information available about them was the thing that made him think they weren't a threat. If no one had ever heard of them, then they couldn't be very important, right?"

Izaya's thumb slid effortlessly across the phone, typing out every single word Tamayo was saying. As someone who lived and breathed information, he couldn't help but notice that Hiro's thought process was rather logical. How had this organization managed to remain such an enigma?

"He was a fool. He's always been a fool. That's why I had decided to look into the White Gloves for him, but," she paused, biting her lip, "I didn't find anything important, and it turns out that I'm just as foolish as he was." She gestured, weakly, to her surroundings, letting out a short chuckle.

"Do you remember anything about the people who attacked you?" Shizuo asked. Izaya couldn't suppress the surprised look that appeared on his face. He hadn't been expecting him to speak.

_Typical monster_, he thought, _only interested in the physical details._

"Not really, sorry. I had gone out one night, hoping to gather some information, and the next thing I knew, I woke up here."

"Where were you going that night?"

Tamayo shook her head again. "I'm sorry, I don't remember that either. I guess I might have been on to something, considering what happened to me."

Izaya nodded slowly. Although this conversation had been helpful, especially when it came to details, he felt as though he was missing the big picture. It had been awhile since he had felt so frustrated, yet also excited about a case. The inner workings of Ikebukuro color gangs had always been relatively easy to figure out. Until now. What did this gang want? Why were they keeping everything a secret? Why attack a couple of Awakusu grunts if they were trying to remain anonymous?

Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, an idea ripped through his mind.

"Do you happen to know anything about BH?"

"BH," Tamayo said softly, her eyes were closed now, "what's that?"

Izaya frowned, feeling slightly disappointed. He had been hoping that she would know something about the connection between the White Gloves and BH. There were several pieces of this puzzle that were refusing to fall into place. Still, he couldn't complain. Tamayo had given him some solid leads. He knew that once he was back in his apartment and had time to think, he'd be able to formulate a plan.

He pressed the send button on the email.

Celty stood and walked over to him, shoving her phone in his face:

_Time's up. She's asleep._

She then forced them out of the room, closing the door gingerly behind her. Just as she began typing out another message, Izaya's words stopped her.

"You need to look after her. If they find out she's alive, I'm sure they won't hesitate to kill her."

In his peripheral vision, he could see Shizuo glaring at him. He seemed tense.

Celty nodded. After typing out a curt sentence on her phone, promising to protect her, she then guided them toward the exit. Once the two had stepped outside, she shut the back door behind them. Izaya could hear several locks being done up a mere second later.

Shizuo coughed. It didn't take long for an awkward silence to befall them.

"Can I have my phone back now?" Shizuo asked. Izaya, somewhat shocked by his politeness, handed it to him, and began walking in the direction of Ikebukuro Station.

"Hey," Shizuo called after him, "I'm walking you home."

Izaya let out a hearty laugh, and spun on his heel to face him. The serious expression that greeted him caused a wave of confusion to sweep through his mind. He found himself at a loss for words. The frigid night air bit at his skin, and his shoulder throbbed, but he hardly registered any of that. However, he found himself yearning for his coat. He felt strangely vulnerable.

"Why?"

"We've both been attacked. If they see us, they might attack us again, and we might be able to find out more about them. And besides," he paused, "you won't be able to defend yourself."

"Why do you care about any of that, Shizu-chan? Wouldn't they be doing you a favor by killing me off?"

"I care because I'm angry," he balled his hands up into fists, "I want to find whoever is responsible for hurting that innocent girl, and figure out who dared to hur—"

Izaya watched as a blush grew on Shizuo's cheeks. He couldn't be certain if it was due to the cold or something else. Snow was now falling, slowly and silently around them. Despite the strangeness of this situation, Izaya felt a calmness overtake him. It didn't seem right to be so relaxed at that moment; after all, he was alone with his worst enemy. However, there was no adrenaline pumping through his veins. Normally, he'd be whipping out his knife, ready to defend himself. Not this time.

The snow began falling more quickly, and an involuntary shiver tore through his body. Somewhere in the distance, a police siren blared. Other than that, the world remained quiet. Suddenly, Izaya felt his calmness melt into exhaustion. He turned back around, his shoes making footprints in the thin layer of snow.

"Fine. Let's go."


	13. The Warmth

**A/N Hey, there! So, I recently just accepted a job offer, and I'll be starting next Monday! It will be 40 hours a week, plus a lot of commuting, so unfortunately, I probably won't be able to update as often as I usually do. To make up for that, I tried to make this chapter longer than usual, and will try to do that in the future, as well. As always, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy! **

Walking alone with Shizuo was strange. Surreal, even. Izaya wondered if he was still knocked out, having some sort of twisted, confusing dream. Any minute now, Shinra would impatiently shake him awake, pull him out of the bed, and kick him out onto the streets to make way for a newer, more important patient. But after a few more moments of silence, he accepted that he was awake. Awake in this odd, freezing, reality.

He was slightly surprised that the city was so quiet. Although he couldn't be sure of the time—he cursed himself once again for losing his phone—he guessed that it was probably around or after 2AM. Usually, all sorts of unsavory people would be out roaming the streets by now: drug dealers, Awakusu members, even Izaya himself. Sometimes the best time to gather information was during the early hours of the morning before the sun had a chance to rise. However, despite the fact that they had been walking for almost ten minutes, they had only seen a few people. Two of these people—a couple by the looks of it—had walked past them, almost bumping into Shizuo before swerving out of the way at the last second. They had been in their own little world, all smiles and sunshine. They didn't seem to notice the cold at all.

Izaya, on the other hand, couldn't ignore it. The frigid air made his shoulder and head ache, and tore through his skin like a knife. He tried to hold back the shivers that ran up his spine, and stop his chattering teeth, but to little avail. He hated appearing vulnerable, especially in front of his sworn enemy. Well, his _supposed_ sworn enemy.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Shizuo staring at him, but he couldn't discern why. Concern? Couldn't be. Mistrust? Probably. For a split second, he marveled at the fact that the monster never appeared to be cold. He had never once seen him wear a coat. He supposed that was just another thing that proved he wasn't human.

The snow kept falling around them, melting into Izaya's thin shirt and jeans, chilling him even further. The train station still seemed like an eternity away. It didn't help that his poor physical condition was forcing him to move slower than usual. He watched as a snowflake landed gingerly on his nose. It thawed after a moment, leaving a tiny water droplet in its wake. At that moment, Shizuo spoke:

"So, what are you thinking?"

"What do you mean?"

"The girl, the White Gloves, BH, the murders, the man who attacked you…I know you have to have some kind of a theory, right?"

Shizuo's calmness just made this situation even stranger. This just didn't seem right. In all of the years they've known each other, they had never once walked together like this. They had never once discussed anything like this. Instead of walking, there had been chasing; instead of discussions, there had been arguments. Not only had their relationship changed, it had changed in the blink of an eye. There was no gradual transformation from enemies into…well, whatever they were now. Was that because they suddenly had a common enemy? Or was there something else? Izaya had no idea.

"I do, but I need time to organize my thoughts and gather more information. As of right now, I can't be sure of anything."

Shizuo responded with a noncommittal grunt, and the world was enveloped in silence once more.

Shizuo had finally taken his eyes off of Izaya, so Izaya decided to take a look at him. The snow had dampened his clothes and hair. His bartender uniform, still wrinkled from his earlier fight, was now covered in small, wet spots. His usually tousled hair was slicker than usual, sticking to his forehead and neck. Despite the dark, he was still wearing his tinted sunglasses. The streetlights illuminated him, light playing off of his wet hair and skin. His expression was neutral, unreadable, but his cheeks were still pink. Maybe he really did have the ability to be cold.

"Hey, Shizu-chan?"

Another noncommittal grunt was his only reply.

They were nearing the station now; he could see the florescent lights emanating from the windows in the distance. His body begged him to move faster, desiring the temporary warmth that the building would supply. Izaya tried to ignore it. He chose his next words carefully.

"When this is over, what will you do?"

"The same things I always do. I don't see why the actions of a few punks would make me change very much, do you?"

"Will you keep trying to kill me?"

Shizuo stopped in his tracks. He clearly hadn't been expecting that question. After taking a few more steps, Izaya stopped, as well. He didn't turn around. Usually he would take pleasure in seeing the monster's frustrated expression. Not tonight. Not right now. He was freezing, exhausted, achy, and conflicted. This wasn't typically who he was, but then again, this wasn't a typical situation.

"I don't know," said Shizuo, faintly, "will you keep trying to kill me?"

"Time will tell."

Izaya began walking again, but he only made it a few feet before he found himself pinned up against the side of a building. One of Shizuo's hands was gripping his good shoulder, pressing it into the brick. His other hand was balled up against the wall, just a few inches away from Izaya's damp hair. He couldn't help but feel ashamed of two things: one, that he hadn't instinctively reacted to being manhandled by the man who was supposed to be his enemy, and two, that a shocked expression had plastered itself onto his face. It took him a moment longer than usual to regain his composure. He grinned.

"Finishing me off now, are we?"

"Look, if we're actually gonna work together to solve this, you need to be honest with me, okay? None of your stupid tricks."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Shizuo moved his hand off the wall, and dug it into Izaya's left shoulder. Pain shot through him like a bullet, and he let out a noise that was half gasp, half hiss. A curse bubbled up at the back of his throat, but he held it back.

Shizuo muttered something, his eyes staring at the sidewalk below.

"W-what was that now?" Izaya asked, hating how weak his voice sounded.

"I don't want to kill you anymore."

"Is that so? Well, then I guess I have no reason to want to kill you…"

The truth was that no longer had a desire to kill him either. It was honestly disturbing him. In a way, it was one of the only things in his life that had been a certainty, a constant. At least until now.

"…Even if you are a monster."

Shizuo gave Izaya one last shove against the wall, causing his head to crack against it, briefly disorienting him. When he regained his senses, he was no longer being pinned. The dull ache in his head had now evolved into an agonizing throb. His shoulder was screaming.

"You're the real monster."

Shizuo was now walking away from him, head held high, toward the train station. Izaya staggered after him, right hand pressed lightly against the bandages encircling his head. Fortunately, the wound hadn't reopened. He moved his hand to his shoulder, and confirmed that his shoulder wasn't bleeding either. In his own way, Shizuo had been gentle with him.

Walking side by side, they entered the warm glow of the train station. Izaya's frozen skin immediately began to thaw. He felt relieved, but also more fatigued than ever.

It was busier inside than it had been on the street, but not by much. Most of the people inside seemed to be seeking shelter from the cold and the snow, huddled up against each other in corners, pulling their coats close to their bodies. Others, however, were slowly making their way to the trains. This wasn't like rush hour, however. No one was jogging or pushing others out of the way. It was just as quiet as the outside world, save for the mechanical sounds of trains arriving and departing.

In a few moments, they found themselves on a train bound for Shinjuku. Despite the fact that they were the only ones in the car, they sat next to each other. It happened naturally. Izaya was too exhausted to think about the strangeness of this. In fact, he was too exhausted to think about anything at all. His head slumped against Shizuo's shoulder. For a second, he registered the sensation of Shizuo's muscles tensing under him, but after that, he fell into a deep sleep.


	14. An Unordinary Morning

**A/N: Sorry for disappearing for a couple months! My new job has been consuming much of my time, and I experienced pretty bad writer's block with this particular chapter. This one's rather slow, but the next few will definitely be more plot-heavy! Hopefully it won't take me this long to post the next chapter. Thank you for your patience. Happy holidays!**

Izaya awoke the next morning with an aching shoulder and hazy mind. His bed sheets stuck to his clammy skin, and it felt like all the moisture had been sucked out of his eyes. Even without looking at the clock, he could tell that he had slept much later than usual. Sunlight seeped in under the curtains. His stomach growled. Slowly, using his one, functional elbow, he rose to a sitting position. Breathing was difficult. His mouth tasted horrible. He couldn't recall if he had brushed his teeth last night. The last thing he remembered was boarding the train with Shizuo. After that, nothing. He blinked a few times, trying to focus his arid eyes. Eventually, he noticed that someone had placed a tall glass of water and two small, white pills on his nightstand. After setting the pills on his tongue, he gulped down the water greedily, draining the glass in mere seconds.

_Thanks, Namie, _he thought, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Before standing, he mentally constructed a list of tasks that he needed to accomplish today. Izaya was in desperate need of both a bodily and mental cleaning. He needed to clear the fog from his brain and inspect his wounds.

He turned the knob on the shower and undressed while he waited for the water to heat up. Tossing the sling aside, he carefully peeled off the stained bandages on his shoulder. After taking the bandages off of his head, he gingerly tapped at his skull and winced when he came in contact with a bump that had sprouted up on his crown. Sighing, and returning his arm to the position it held while in the sling, he stepped into the shower. Steam filled his nostrils and water immediately began washing the grime off of his skin. He gritted his teeth when he realized that he would have to ask Namie to bandage him up again.

After a successful shower, he pulled on a white bathrobe, unable to dress himself properly until he was newly bandaged. He brushed his teeth, and ran a comb through his damp, slightly tangled hair. As he set out into his living room, he gulped. It was time to swallow his pride. It was time to ask his secretary for help.

However, the person sitting in a chair in his living room was not Namie Yagiri. It was a man with blonde hair, tinted glasses, and an askew bowtie. Shizuo Heiwajima was calmly sitting, an ankle propped up on a knee, in Izaya's living room. It seemed like a dream, or more accurately, a nightmare. Yet, there was no doubt in Izaya's mind that this was really happening, because the memories of the previous night had suddenly, unexpectedly, returned to him. He saw them flash before his eyes, as if he were watching a movie. He had fallen asleep on the train. Shizuo shook him awake when they reached Shinjuku. After that, he had guided him to his apartment and had made sure that he had gotten into bed safely. In one fragment, Izaya watched as Shizuo pulled the covers up to his chin, tucking him in.

_Was that real?_ He wondered as he stood in the doorway of his bedroom, not daring to take another step until he could answer his own question. He couldn't, however, and ended up moving forward when Shizuo called out to him:

"Finally awake? I made breakfast."

"What time is it?"

Izaya knew it was exactly 10:52 in the morning. He had looked at the clock on his nightstand seconds before he had opened the door, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"It's almost eleven," Shizuo stood and walked toward the kitchen, "have a seat."

This was surreal. Although he had been gradually getting used to working with Shizuo over the past couple days, this just seemed too strange. He never thought he would be sitting at his own dinning room table, dressed in a bathrobe as his sworn enemy prepared his breakfast for him.

After a few moments, Shizuo placed a bowl of rice, a bowl of miso soup, and a cup of green tea in front of him.

"I did my best with what you had. Namie told me that she had planned to go shopping today, but I sent her home."

"You what?"

"She showed up around eight, but I figured that she wouldn't be needed today, so I told her she could have the day off."

"What gives you the authority to order _my _secretary around?"

Shizuo shrugged and massaged a spot on the back of his neck. Izaya suddenly realized that Shizuo must have spent the night on his couch.

"And I don't remember saying that you could spend the night, Shizu-chan."

"But you did. Last night, before you fell asleep."

Izaya was pretty sure he wasn't lying. Why had his memory failed him so badly? This was unusual. Had his exhaustion really impacted his mind this badly? He didn't know what else to say, so he began to eat.

Despite it's simplicity, the meal had been cooked very nicely. The rice, soup, and tea were all piping hot. The rice was neither too hard nor too squishy. The soup was flavorful and consisted of soft tofu, cooked carrots, and pleasantly crunchy scallions. The tea was slightly weak, but satisfying. It warmed his stomach as he sipped it.

"Thanks," Izaya said, and then reluctantly added, "your cooking's not half-bad."

"It was nothing," Shizuo muttered, "it gave me something to do while I was waiting for your lazy ass to get out of bed."

Izaya ignored him, and finished the rest of his breakfast. Shizuo remained silent, but spoke up again as soon as Izaya placed his chopsticks on the table.

"What's the plan?"

"Hm?"

"Last night, you said that you needed to organize your thoughts so that you could solve this damn thing. How do we start doing that?"

_We?_ Izaya, thought. How oddly natural that word had sounded as it slipped out of his mouth. He brought a napkin up to his lips and smirked.

"Well, I have come to the realization that I have not been as meticulous as I usually am. There are many things I haven't done yet. I need to create a timeline of everything that has happened so far. I need to call Shiki, and set up an appointment. But first, I need you to help me with something."

Shizuo cocked his head to the side.

"Since you decided to dismiss my secretary for the day, you'll have to help me change my bandages."

The corners of Shizuo's mouth turned downward slightly, but he did not appear angry. Izaya wouldn't admit it, but he was slightly relieved that this was the case. His arm had begun to ache without the support of the sling, and the sooner he was bandaged, the sooner he could get to work.

"Fine."

Shizuo somehow already knew that Izaya kept his bandages under the kitchen sink. It was a good spot. Close to the front door, they were quick and easy to find. Plus, it was always good to have a first aid kit in the kitchen in case of accidental cuts or burns. The stash under the sink, however, was more than just a first aid kit. Izaya always made sure to keep a surplus of bandages and disinfectant at his disposal. He always thought it better to be safe than sorry.

As Shizuo slowly cleaned the wound on his head and wrapped bandages around his skull, Izaya had a thought. He was naked under his bathrobe. the garment went down to his shins, so he didn't see the point in putting underwear on, but he was now regretting that decision. He felt exposed. As Shizuo pulled the shoulder of the robe down in order to bandage his arm, Izaya felt his heart rate increase. He knew he shouldn't be feeling so worried about this, but as Shizuo gingerly wound the bandages over Izaya's skin, he felt a warmth spread across his face. Forcing his eyes to look at the floor beneath him, he waited. As soon as he felt Shizuo's hands leave his skin, he shot up out of the chair, stammered that he was going to go change, and briskly walked to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. His heartbeat hammered in his ears. A warmth had blossomed in his stomach. He took a deep breath and began to dress himself in his usual jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt. It took quite some time, considering he only had one arm to work with. After pulling his sling on, he stood in the quiet, dark safety of his bedroom, trying to calm himself down.

_You're being an idiot_, he thought. But the truth was, he didn't quite know what to think or what to feel.

_You're being an idiot,_ his mind repeated, _you don't have feelings_.

He twisted the doorknob and stepped back into the living room.


	15. Here

"Timeline first," Izaya said with forced confidence as he strode over to his desk. A light blush still plastered itself across his cheeks. A thin layer of sweat had formed at his hairline. Shizuo sat on the living room couch, head resting on a dark pillow. His eyes had been shut, but he opened them once he heard Izaya enter the room. When Izaya sat at his desk, he immediately felt that something was off, but he couldn't figure out what. Was he missing something? Had his computer been tampered with? No. Nothing had been taken. Something had been added.

His phone sat, seemingly unharmed, to the right of his mouse. Izaya had been so overwhelmed with other thoughts, that he had completely forgotten that he had lost his phone. Yet, there it was, as good as new. He knew he had slipped it into his pocket when Akito knocked on his door. He knew that he didn't have it when he woke up at the hospital, but he had assumed that it had been stolen or had fallen out when Shizuo brought him to Shinra.

"Did you do something with my phone?"

Shizuo—who was now sitting next to him on a chair that he had dragged over from the dining room—raised an eyebrow.

"Never mind," said Izaya as he carefully reached out and stroked the black screen. He pressed the power button. The phone lit up, displaying the battery level, time, and the copious amounts of texts, calls, and emails he had missed while incapacitated. It looked just as it always did. Nothing suspicious, at least at surface level. Deciding that unlocking it might be a bad idea, he quickly scrolled through the notifications on the lock screen, mentally taking note of people he would have to contact later. Shiki came up the most often, mostly calls, but some texts simply reading, "Call me." Namie had texted him a couple times, a few short sentences about trivial things, a snide remark about Shizuo being at his apartment that morning. Several emails had come in from clients, their problems and requests far less interesting than the case at hand. He turned the phone off and slipped it into an empty drawer. He reached for another drawer and pulled it all the way out, detaching it from the desk entirely. A key was taped on the back, outside panel of wood. He peeled the tape off and used the key on another drawer. As he pulled it out, he saw Shizuo's eyes widen. Inside, there were at least a dozen identical phones, neatly lined up, screens free of fingerprints and scratches. Izaya pulled one out at random, stuck it on a charger, locked the drawer, and put the key back where he found it.

"I think the person who attacked me might have messed with my phone," Izaya explained, "if he bugged it, it's of no use to us now."

_Us_, he thought, almost startled that he had used that word so casually. Their partnership was starting to feel more and more natural by the minute.

Shizuo simply nodded in response. Izaya noticed for the first time how tired he looked. Dark circles had surfaced below his eyes, his outfit was more rumpled than it had been the previous day, and he looked slightly unbalanced somehow, as if gravity was too much for him to handle after a night of such little sleep. For a brief moment, Izaya thought of asking him if he'd like to make use of his shower or take a nap, but he decided against it, as he needed his help to construct the timeline.

As he turned on his computer, it occurred to him that they could have hacked into his hard drive, as well. He let out a sigh. Monitoring the Dollars website or sending any emails to Shiki was out of the question. He would have to use his new phone after it had charged. Turning off his wifi as a precaution, he opened a blank Word document and began to type. Little by little, he and Shizuo created the most accurate timeline they could with the information they possessed:

**_C. January 5_**_\- Tamayo Sugiyama (half-sister of Hiro Igurashi) begins to look into the White Gloves._

**_January 13_**_\- Hiro Igurashi and Hideki Mizuno are murdered by members of the White Gloves in a car close to Haruya Shiki's office. _

**_Night of January 14_**_\- Sugiyama goes out to look for Igurashi. She is attacked by unknown assailants, and left in an alleyway. _

**_January 15 (Approx. 8AM)_****\- **_Izaya Orihara's door is defaced with a binary code that translates to, "BH."_

**_January 15 (9:30AM)_**_\- Orihara meets with Shiki and is tasked with looking into the murders of Igurashi and Mizuno._

**_January 15 (10AM)_**_\- Orihara is chased through the streets of Ikebukuro by Shizuo Heiwajima and into an alleyway where they discover Sugiyama, unconscious, and rolled up in a carpet. They take her to Shinra Kishitani for medical treatment. _

**_January 15 (Approx. 9:30PM)_**_\- Heiwajima is attacked by three members of the White Gloves._

**_January 15 (10PM)_**_\- A member of "BH," referring to himself as "Akito" shows up at Orihara's apartment, threatens him, and knocks him unconscious. It is currently unknown if he took anything from the apartment or bugged any of Orihara's devices. _

**_January 15 (11PM)_**_\- Heiwajima finds Orihara unconscious in his apartment, and brings him to Kishitani for medical care. _

**_January 16 (Approx. 1AM)_**_\- Orihara and Heiwajima question Sugiyama (see transcription below) _

Izaya decided to leave out the paper that he had found in his pocket, figuring that it was a message meant for him, and him alone. _Projection. _The word continued to haunt him.

After they finished, Izaya began to type out more detailed paragraphs including the transcription of their interview with Tamayo, Shizuo's account of his attackers, and his own account of Akito's attack. He also included some theories he had about BH and the White Gloves, speculating that they were two separate gangs who had decided to team up. However, he also knew that he couldn't prove that quite yet. At some point, he noticed that Shizuo was dozing, his arm bent on the desk, supporting his head.

"Hey," he said after a moment of hesitation. Shizuo's eyes snapped open. "If you want to use my shower and take a nap, go ahead. It's going to take me a while to finish this…especially with one hand."

"Uh yeah, that would be great."

As Shizuo began to walk away, Izaya called out to him.

"Um, sorry, I don't think I have any clothes your size, but if you want to take a bathrobe out of the closet and throw your stuff in the wash, go ahead."

Shizuo muttered an awkward "thanks," and set off into the bathroom. An image of Shizuo in a bathrobe flashed through Izaya's mind, making his heart skip a beat.

_It'll probably be short on him, _he thought before he could stop himself.

Disgusted by his own thoughts, he tried to focus his attention back to his work. However, writer's block had taken over his mind and refused to let go. His fingers, numb from the amount of typing he had already done, refused to move, and the only thing his brain seemed to want to think about was Shizuo. Izaya put his one working hand up to his forehead and took a deep breath.

_What the hell is wrong with you?_

He couldn't answer his own question. He could hear the water being turned on a few rooms over, and decided he needed a distraction. The battery of his new phone was full, so after a few moments, he decided that it was time to call Shiki. There was no doubt in Izaya's mind that he'd be mad at him for missing his calls and texts.

"This is Shiki," said a serious voice into Izaya's ear. He picked up before the first ring had even finished.

"Hey there, Shiki! This is Izaya Ori-"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Asked Shiki in a raised voice, unaware that Izaya had asked himself the same question mere moments before.

"I'm sorry Shiki, but something happened to me last night," he paused, choosing his words carefully, "listen, we should meet in person. I have some information I need to give you, but there are certain…precautions I need to take. I'm typing out a report right now, so when can we meet?"

"Anytime. As soon as humanly possible. Something happened here last night, too."

He had never heard Shiki sound like this before. His voice was a mix of anger, exasperation, and maybe even a hint of fear. Something about it sent a shiver down Izaya's spine. His mouth had gone dry.

"What happened?" He had to force the words out of his mouth.

"Last night, three more Awakusu were murdered."

Izaya's heart stopped. At that exact moment, his mind registered that the water in the bathroom was no longer running. Shizuo stood in the doorway of Izaya's bedroom, clad in a bathrobe, his wet hair clinging to his scalp. Even in his now heightened state of mind, he noticed that he was right about the bathrobe being short on him. It only came down to his knees. However, the expression on Shizuo's face was what truly grabbed his attention. His eyebrows knitted together, lips were slightly parted. Concern. Izaya wondered how he could have possibly known what Shiki was telling him before he realized that his own expression must look equally horrified.

"D-don't say anything more over the phone, okay? We'll be over in a bit."

_"'We'll?'"_

"Goodbye," said Izaya, ignoring Shiki's question.

"Wait, Orihara."

Izaya, who had been lowering the phone back down toward the desk, pulled the device back up to his ear.

"They happened here."

"What?"

"The murders. They happened here. In my own office."


	16. Without Words

Izaya slumped back down onto his chair, placing the phone on the desk in front of him. He brought his hand up to his face and massaged the bridge of his nose. This situation was getting worse and worse. Usually, he loved when things like this happened in his dear city. He loved how gangs could shake things up; loved how tragic events brought out the best and the worst in his precious humans. It was all so fascinating. However, he wasn't one to get his hands dirty. Watching from afar, he involved himself in as much as he could, but very rarely placed himself in harm's way. That is why he had always hated dealing with Shizuo. With him, everything was so physical. Anonymity was impossible when a monstrous man wielding a street sign or vending machine was chasing him. This was a similar situation. Vicariously watching things unfold was no longer an option. It hadn't been for a while. He either needed to put a stop to these gangs or get them under his control. Considering how strongly they opposed his interference, the latter option seemed unlikely.

"Goddamnit," me muttered, under his breath.

"Who was that?" Shizuo asked, now standing at his side.

"Shiki. Three Awakusu were murdered last night. In his own office."

Izaya looked up at him. Shizuo was still wearing the concerned expression that he had developed moments before. One of his hands was reaching out to him at a curious angle, as if had been planning to place it on Izaya's shoulder before Izaya had looked up at him. He pulled it back down to his side.

"What now?"

"I told Shiki that we would meet him as soon as possible," he paused, turning his attention back to his computer, "Before that, however, I need to add this to our report."

Shizuo merely nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. The wrinkles in his face faded and gave way to a more neutral expression. Izaya resumed his work, adding the new murders to the timeline and finishing up the paragraphs concerning his current theories. After a moment of consideration, he typed exactly two words and two numbers at the bottom of the page:

**Injured: 3**

**Murdered: 5**

Although he didn't dwell on it for too long, he knew that those numbers were likely to go up. Very likely.

Wary of his computer, he saved the document to an external hard drive and printed it out. It wasn't a very long report, but it was currently all they had. Izaya hoped that the murders had been carried out messily. He hoped that some clues had been left behind. However, he knew that the odds of that were relatively slim. The previous attacks had been done cleanly, efficiently. Very little had been left behind. Although they now knew that WG was a gang called the "White Gloves," they still couldn't be sure what BH meant. What were their motivations? Izaya couldn't be sure, but he was determined to find out.

He stood up and strode to the coatrack in the corner of his living room. Sliding his one free arm through a sleeve, he could feel that one of the pockets had a weight to it. His knife. He pulled it out and inspected it. The last time he had seen his trusty knife was during his and Akito's fight. He had sliced into the skin of his chest. It was a clumsy move. However, it had drawn blood, none of which remained on its clean, shiny blade. Akito must have scrubbed it meticulously. Izaya could see his own, frowning face reflecting in its cold, metallic surface. He slid it back into his pocket.

When he pulled the other side of the coat over his tender shoulder, Shizuo spoke up.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Shiki's. Were you listening, or could your tiny brain not process what I said?"

"I just put my clothes in the dryer. We're gonna have to wait," said Shizuo, ignoring Izaya's insult.

"You can just meet me there later. We can't afford to wait any longer, Shizu-chan. I need to tell Shiki what I know, and I need him to tell me what happened last night."

Shizuo, who had been sitting on the couch, rose and walked purposefully over to the door. Izaya had been reaching for the knob, but stopped when he felt a warm presence on his good shoulder. Turning his head slightly, he saw that Shizuo had placed his hand on his shoulder and was looking at him in a way that he never had before. His hair was still damp, but was now sticking up here and there. His dark eyes were filled with something that Izaya could not describe.

"You are going to wait for me."

It was a demand, not a request.

"I just told you that we can't afford to wait. Either of these gangs could make a move at any time."

He reached for the knob again, but Shizuo grabbed his wrist. His grasp was surprisingly gentle, but also firm. Izaya spun on his heel and looked him in the eye.

"Just let me go, okay? What's the big deal?"

"'We.'"

"What was that?"

"Before. You said 'we.' You said that we would meet Shiki at his office, not just you. Why are you so determined to go alone?"

"That's a pretty arbitrary detail to focus on, don't you think? Now that I think about it, weren't you about to take a nap? You're overtired. In fact, it would probably be for the best if you just stayed here."

Izaya had not meant to say "we" so many times over the past few hours, but he had. The word had never held that much importance, but now it did. They were partners. He didn't regret or even dislike this fact, but that didn't mean that he didn't want his space. Shizuo had been of great help while compiling their report, but that didn't mean that Izaya needed him.

"You need me. Have you forgotten that you can't defend yourself right now?"

Suddenly, Shizuo's attention turned to the carpet below him. Izaya followed suit and saw that a small piece of paper was sitting on the floor, slightly crumpled. His eyes widened when he realized what it was. Tearing his arm out of Shizuo's grasp, he bent at the waist and picked it up. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but it must have fallen out of his pants' pocket while he and Shizuo had been arguing. He immediately regretted picking it up, cursing at himself mentally for doing it in such an urgent way

"What's that?"

"What? Oh, this paper? Uh," he paused and shoved the paper back into his pocket, "who knows? I just don't like mess."

Shizuo stared at him, one eyebrow raised. He clearly didn't buy it.

That's why I keep Namie around, you know? She really helps keep the place tidy."

"Don't change the subject. Sit."

"_Sit? _What am I, a dog?" Izaya felt a surge of anger and slight embarrassment flow through him.

"You can't leave."

"Forgive me, _master_, but I can. This is my own apartment. This is my own job. This is my own life. We may have teamed up, but that doesn't mean you own me," he swallowed, "you stupid monster."

Shizuo's face hardened, but showed no signs of anger.

"No, I don't own you. But," he surprised Izaya by reaching out and taking his hand, "you can't go out there and get yourself hurt again."

There was no softness in the tone of his voice. He was serious. Izaya's hand felt warmth that it had never felt before. His skin felt light, almost tingly. So many thoughts ran through his mind at that moment that he was at a loss for words. Half of him wanted to tear his hand away, half of him wanted to remain perfectly still and let this newfound warmth overtake him, devour him, until he didn't have to think anymore. About gangs, about Shiki, about Shizuo, about himself. It had been less than 24 hours since Akito had attacked him and left that paper in his pocket, but it felt like it had been way longer. Something had changed. Perhaps, many things had changed.

"Why do you care?" Izaya eventually asked.

After he spoke, it occurred to him that ever since they had teamed up, many of their conversations had consisted of questions. Questions that neither of them really seemed comfortable answering honestly, or questions that neither of them actually knew the answer to. As naturally as their partnership had formed, they were lying to themselves and to each other. Many of their exchanges seemed superficial or rigid. They were cooperating, but not comfortably. Izaya assumed that this was due to their violent history of hatred, but deep down he knew that there was something else. There were things that neither of them had acknowledged, things that relentlessly took hold of their hearts and minds and refused to let go. Izaya reminded himself over and over again that he didn't have feelings. He was above feelings and therefore, above humanity itself. He reminded himself that Shizuo was a monster that was incapable of logic, incapable of understanding the genius of his schemes, incapable of humanity itself.

The seconds that had passed after Izaya spoke felt like hours. Despite the silent tension that had formed between them, Izaya wasn't expecting Shizuo's response to be of any actual importance. He expected him to direct the conversation back to the argument at hand. Maybe he'd say something like, "taking such a risk won't solve this case," or even just a simple, "I don't." However, his response didn't involve any words at all.

Shizuo brought his free hand up to Izaya's face and gently cradled his cheek in his palm. Before Izaya could react, Shizuo, the man who he had assumed would always be his enemy; the man who he had assumed he would kill or be killed by someday, leaned down and pressed their lips together in a soft, warm kiss.


	17. The Sound of Screeching Tires

**A/N: Thanks for all the lovely comments and support, everyone! Enjoy!**

"Their names were Ayumi Narita, Ichiro Nara, and Jiro Yamikawa," said Shiki as he let Izaya and Shizuo into his bloodied office. In the middle of the room, there were three bodies, lying side by side; they were only inches apart from each other.

Despite the spatters of blood that coated the walls and floor in messy patterns, the bodies themselves were oddly neat. All three of them were on their back, arms at their sides with their legs straight. Eyes closed, their clothes were clean. In fact, the only thing that confirmed their deceased states were the long, straight red lines that had been carved into their throats. Even the wounds had been carefully cleaned.

Izaya knelt down to inspect the bodies more closely.

Ayumi was on the left, her dark hair cropped short. Her pale skin was immaculate and cold. She was on the short side and dressed professionally with black dress pants, white oxford shirt, and black blazer. A pair of sunglasses were residing in her breast pocket.

Next to her, in the center, was Ichiro. He was a good five or so inches taller than her with a slightly crooked nose and short hair. He was wearing a more casual set of clothes: jeans, boots, and a light blue button-up shirt. His pockets were empty.

Jiro was on the right. He was shorter than Ichiro with longer hair. A small scar was etched into the skin on his left cheekbone, right under his eye. He wore a plain black suit. A silver chain sat around his neck, just under the slash across his throat. After Izaya turned out his pockets, Shiki tapped him on his shoulder and handed him a small piece of paper.

"This was in his shoe."

The paper had been folded neatly. It reminded Izaya of the paper he had been given. For all he knew, this too, had been Akito's work. When he unfolded the paper, all that had been written was the familiar "WG" enclosed in a circle. Izaya took his paper out and compared the two. The handwriting was different, the "PROJECTION" straighter and less bubbly than the "WG." He could feel Shizuo and Shiki looking over his shoulder.

"What's that?" Shiki asked.

"A paper I found after I was attacked last night. The handwriting is different, though."

"You were attacked last night?"

"Yeah. Here," Izaya handed him the report he had written, "everything that I've been able to find out so far is in here. To be brief, I think there are two new gangs in Ikebukuro: The White Gloves, or 'WG,' and 'BH.' My attacker said he was with 'BH,' and this is clearly the work of the White Gloves. Based on that information, they are working together, but are separate groups. For some reason, they are trying to destroy the Awakusu and anyone who witnesses the crimes they commit, like Shizuo and myself."

Shiki began flipping through the report, a frown prominently displayed across his face.

"I'm assuming you have information on these members of yours, and have taken photos of the crime scene."

"That is correct."

"I need you to print them out and give them to me."

"Can't I just email you?"

"I have mentioned in my report that I believe my computer has been bugged. I have a new phone but, if possible, I'd like to analyze hard copies."

"Alright," said Shki as he walked to the door, "I'll be right back."

After Shiki had quietly closed the door behind him, Izaya and Shizuo were left alone in awkward silence.

They hadn't talked about what had happened at the apartment. After Shizuo had kissed him, Izaya was beyond shocked. He had suspected that Shizuo had warmed up to him somewhat, but never would have guessed that he had developed feelings for him. After they had parted after what had felt like an eternity, Izaya was speechless. All he could do was take a seat on the couch and wait for Shizuo to be ready to leave. Even on the journey from Shinjuku to Ikebukuro, very few words had been exchanged between them. It had been strange. It had been uncomfortable.

During this uncomfortable silence, Izaya had considered his own feelings. He had never thought himself capable of feeling anything for anybody, other than the love he had for his humans, and the hatred he had for Shizuo up until recently. He realized he had been lying to himself. He and Shizuo had stepped into that alleyway as enemies, and had left as changed people. Had he developed feelings for Shizuo? He still didn't want to admit it. The kiss had made him feel warm. He had even felt happy.

"About what happened earlier…" began Shizuo after a few moments of silence.

"Is now really the best time to talk about that? We are standing in a bloody room with three corpses."

"If not now, then when?"

"Maybe when we're not standing in a bloody room with three corpses," out of the corner of his eye, Izaya saw the corners of Shizuo's mouth turn upward, "besides, Shiki will be back any second."

"You didn't hate it though, right?"

Izaya considered that for a moment before mumbling a soft, but sturdy, "no."

At that exact moment, the door opened to reveal Shiki, now holding a file filled to the brim with documents and photos. He handed it to Izaya.

"I'm going to read your report, and I want you to look through this. Let me know if you find anything new."

Shiki ushered them through the door and then, through the exit. Just as he was shutting the door, he paused and said in a curt and serious tone:

"Be careful."

Izaya and Shizuo headed off toward the train station at a leisurely pace. The sun was setting above them, bathing the sky in orange hues. The cold, winter wind had picked up during the time they had spent in Shiki's office. Izaya pulled his coat closer to his body, the file tucked underneath, away from prying eyes. A car drove by every once in awhile, but the streets were rather quiet. Winter made everything quiet.

"Izaya, I—" said Shizuo, but was cut off by an incredibly loud screeching noise.

Izaya's head snapped to look to his left, where Shizuo had been walking, to see him being pulled backward. It had taken a moment for his brain to process what was happening. A black van had come to a halt beside them. In flash, at least two sets of hands were yanking at the back of Shizuo's shirt. Izaya's hand reached out, desperately, trying to get a hold of Shizuo's arm or sleeve. Their fingers brushed together for a brief moment, as they stared into each other's eyes. Then, with one last pull, Shizuo was forced inside the van.

As it accelerated away from him, Izaya could see Shizuo's silhouette, through the back windshield, as it flailed and struggled against his captors. Something clasped over his mouth, and the silhouette grew still before disappearing all together. Then, the van faded out of view. For what seemed like forever, Izaya stood, arm still outstretched, uselessly reaching toward a hand that had disappeared. Perhaps, for good.


	18. As Good as Dead

**A/N: Sorry that it took me longer than usual to update! Enjoy!**

When the car disappeared from view, Izaya's first instinct was to run after it. After he realized that he could never catch it, his second instinct was to call Shiki. When he discovered that his arm wouldn't move, he realized that for perhaps the first time ever, he was out of instincts. He had no plan. A small thought in the back of his mind cut through the confusion and wondered if he was in shock. In a weird way, he felt like he no longer existed in this world. He couldn't feel his heartbeat. He wasn't sure if he was breathing. When had he last blinked? He wasn't sure. This had probably only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity before he was able to come to his senses and call Shiki.

"You have news already? That was fast."

Izaya's mouth wouldn't move.

"You there?"

"Sh-Shizuo…"

"Yeah? What about him?"

"They took him. Just now."

"_What? _How the hell is that even possible?"

Shiki sounded as shocked as Izaya felt. Even after everything that had happened, the possibility of Shizuo being kidnapped had never crossed his mind. Even after it happened, it still didn't seem possible. They had caught him at just the right moment. He had been mid-sentence with his back turned. They had been so quick. Izaya wondered how much chloroform they had to use on him. Certainly, much more than they would have needed for an average human being.

"They were extremely precise, Shiki. By the time I figured out what was happening, it was already over."

"Did you get their plate number?"

_Damn it, _Izaya thought. That hadn't even occurred to him. Even if it had, everything had happened too fast. There was also the very real possibility that the van hadn't even had plates on it in the first place.

"No, I didn't."

Shiki went silent on the other end of the phone. It was a contemplative silence that made Izaya's heartbeat increase with anxiety.

"Come back to my office. I think it's best if we stay together for now."

Izaya wasn't very far from Shiki's. They had only walked about five blocks before Shizuo had been abducted. However, Izaya felt as though time had slowed down considerably. It felt like hours, even days since they had left Shiki's office. Time was strange. On one hand, nothing felt too different, but on the other hand, he felt as though a tiny, invisible void had opened up inside him. So much had been taken from him in such a short span of time. However, he refused to let it get to him.

A few moments later, it was completely dark. The black sky hung heavily above him like a shroud. No stars. Too much light pollution. Soon, he arrived at Shiki's door. An indescribable, perplexing loneliness suddenly flowed through him as he knocked on the door and was led inside. The hallway was dark, as well. The smell of cigarette smoke made him feel even worse. He hated how much that particular smell reminded him of Shizuo.

Shiki was using a temporary office, as the bodies still resided in his usual one. It was further away from the entrance, up a flight of stairs. Izaya was pretty sure that had been done as a precaution. There had also been more Awakusu members at the door than usual. Increasing security was certainly a good idea, and yet he didn't feel any safer. These people were able to take Shizuo, so who knows what they could do to a few Awakusu grunts.

Even before an Awakusu member opened the door for him, Izaya could tell Shiki was on the phone . His voice rose and fell in volume, but his tone was completely businesslike. When he entered the office, he immediately noticed there were no windows at all. Shiki was leaning on the side of an old desk, one arm holding the elbow of the other, phone pressed against his ear. His face was stony. He hadn't even looked up when Izaya entered.

"I understand…No…Just what is it that you actually want?...How do I know that you—…That's not good enough…"

At first, Izaya had assumed that he was talking to his boss, or at least someone higher up the ladder than he was. After hearing bits and pieces of this conversation, however, he was almost positive that he wasn't talking to Dougen or any member of the Awakusu for that matter. The voice on the other side of the phone sounded warped somehow, even slightly robotic. It only took a second or two to for him to realize whom Shiki was actually talking to. He balled up his free hand at his side, trying to restrain himself from reaching out and snatching the phone away.

After a few minutes, Shiki closed his flip phone and grasped the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

"Where is he?" Izaya asked, slightly taken aback at the hint of rage that had made its way into his voice.

Shiki didn't look up. He didn't speak.

_"Shiki."_

"They want to negotiate. Tomorrow, early morning. They've given me an address."

"Negotiate what?"

"They want you and me to go alone, unarmed."

"Shiki—"

"I need to call the boss, but I doubt there's much he can do at this point."

"Shiki, look at me," Izaya said, raising his voice, but not quite yelling. For the first time since he had entered, Shiki lifted his head and looked him in the eye. "What do they want to negotiate?"

"They have hostages."

Izaya's heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. He did his best to maintain a calm expression. Of course he knew. Of course, he knew that Shizuo was being held against his will. He could picture him in his mind. Knocked out, restrained by rope or chains. They would keep him unconscious as long as they had him. That was for sure. Dealing with an awake, newly pissed off Shizuo was almost impossible. Izaya could attest to that.

The full gravity of the situation, however, didn't hit him until Shiki next spoke.

"If we don't go, they'll kill them. If we go and bring others with us, they'll kill them. If we do what they say," Shiki paused and let out a deep breath, seemingly deflating his body of hope, "I think they'll kill all of us anyway."

He lit a cigarette between slightly trembling fingers. To Izaya's surprise, he smiled, or perhaps, grimaced. It had been hard to tell.

"You know what, Information Broker? I'd say we're all as good as dead."


	19. Realization

**A/N: Thank you for all your supportive and helpful comments, they mean a lot to me! Enjoy!**

"Why don't you just get out of here?" There was an edge to Shiki's voice that Izaya had never heard before. Borderline sarcastic with metallic sharpness, his tone was dripping with frustration.

Izaya said nothing. He took a seat on a rickety wooden chair in the corner of the room. The florescent light that hung above them made him feel oddly sick somehow. For the first time, he wondered what this room was usually used for. His stomach churned.

"I know none of my men mean anything to you. And I know that _he _certainly doesn't eith—"

Shiki stopped, mouth still open, cigarette in hand, and stared into Izaya's eyes. Izaya himself was surprised that his own expression had apparently given something away. He had been trying his best to appear completely neutral, completely calm. Betraying nothing. Apparently, he hadn't fooled the man in front of him.

"He does."

"What makes you say that?" Izaya's own voice sounded unfamiliar to him, as if it was coming from someone far away, echoing toward him instead of away from him.

"You're still here. You wouldn't still be here if you didn't…care about him."

Izaya still wasn't sure what to say. He wanted to lie, after all, that was who he was. A liar. He lied to everyone, even himself. However, he couldn't bring himself to lie about this, most likely because he was too confused to even know what he was lying about. Instead, he went with a sort of deflection, a scoff.

"Why would I care about a monster like him?"

It was a weak response, and he knew it, but he didn't want to confirm or deny anything.

Shiki surprised him when he emitted a loud, hardy laugh.

"Oh please, what makes him a monster, exactly? What makes him any more monstrous than you or me?"

"Violence, inability to understand reason, stupidity…do you want me to keep going?" Izaya had said similar words dozens, maybe even hundreds of times, but this was the first time that they had seemed wrong. A small part of him felt ill.

"Heiwajima isn't violent. He isn't unreasonable. He isn't stupid," Shiki paused and with a smile, looked Izaya right in the eye, "and I think you know that all of this, every bit of it, is true."

The realization hit Izaya like a bullet to the brain. He knew. Of course he knew. He just didn't let himself feel it. The paper in his pocket burned now more than ever. _PROJECTION. _How long had he known? How many other people knew that he loved Shizuo Heiwajima and had buried that love under intense loathing and disgust? He didn't hate Shizuo. He was not repulsed by him. Deep down, he hated himself. He found himself repulsive.

"Fear," Shiki's smile had become incredibly sly , "that's why we do what we do, right? You know that too."

"He doesn't deserve this." As emotional as Izaya now felt, his words were smooth and serious.

"What are you gonna do about it? Look at us. I'm okay, but you…a dislocated shoulder and a concussion. What can either of us do against them?"

"I've figured it out. What they really want."

Shiki crushed the cigarette in an ashtray and leaned forward, suddenly attentive.

"They don't care about your men or about Shizuo. They want you…no, they want the entire Awakusu organization. And," he paused and took a deep breath, "they want me too."

Izaya stood. The room spun slightly around him. Even though the pain in his head had mostly subsided, he still felt dizzy and even a little nauseous.

"Do you care about your men?"

"Of course." Shiki appeared to be almost offended that Izaya would ask such a question.

"You're right, Shiki, I do care about Shizuo. I want to save him."

"And how do you propose doing that?"

"As you know, I've dealt with one of these people beforehand. Akito. If others in this organization are similar to him, I don't think you should assume that we'll all die."

Shiki raised an eyebrow.

"Akito could have easily killed me in my apartment, but he didn't. He talked to me for a while before he knocked me out, and seemingly only did so because he needed to—presumably—bug my computer and phone. However—" he stopped, suddenly being hit by another realization. Slowly, he sank back down onto the chair.

"What?"

"They planned it, all of it," said Izaya so softly that it was almost a whisper.

"What was that?"

"Shiki, do you have detailed background records on all your members?"

"Of course we do."

"I mean physical copies. Not just on the computer."

"Yes, they're in a vault in a room down the hall."

"I need to see one. Right now."

It had taken a few moments for Izaya to convince Shiki to get Hiro Igurashi's documents, but after he reminded him that they were running out of time, he obliged. After all, the man was dead. How much damage could Izaya cause by simply knowing about his past?

As soon as the papers arrived in the hands of a nervous-looking Awakusu grunt, Izaya devoured them with his eyes. His pulse thudded in his head. He could almost feel the blood rushing throughout his body. With every word he took in, his heart seemed to beat just a little bit faster. Then, when he read the section on his family, his heart seemed to stop altogether.

"These would say if Igurashi had step-siblings, right?" Asked Izaya, just to be safe.

"Of course. They're very detailed."

Izaya let out a laugh, the full gravity of the situation washing over him. He felt a certain glee that he only felt whenever he was incredibly entertained. Entertained by his precious humans. He fought an urge to toss the papers in the air. When he looked up at Shiki, he saw that he still didn't understand.

"Hiro Igurashi, born July 15th, 1988 in Itabashi to Shu and Hikari Igurashi. He had a younger brother, Jun. His parents are still together, and he had no other siblings."

About halfway through Izaya's sentence, Shiki appeared to realize what he was getting at. His eyes went wide.

"S-sugiyama—"

"I doubt that's her real name."

Shiki was speechless.

"They planned everything. They knew that if they started killing your people, you'd consult me. They figured out what time we planned to meet. They might have even tipped Shizuo off somehow that I'd be in town. They planted Tamayo Sugiyama in that alley. Her injuries were real. I suspect that she might have even volunteered for the job. That's some determination, don't you think? I wonder which one of us she hates…"

He waited a minute to see if Shiki would say something, but he still looked incredibly shocked, mouth opened just slightly, eyes still wide.

"Last night, it was no coincidence that Shizuo and I were attacked around the same time. They knew Shizuo would suspect that I was behind it, storm into my apartment, see me unconscious and bring me to Shinra. Thus, they forced us to begin working together. They killed three more of your members and left them in your office both to make you more emotional and to make Shizuo and I come to you. Then, they kidnapped him and few more of your members in order to finally force us to confront them. They want us, Shiki, and who knows how long they've been watching us, planning the right moments to strike. It must have been months, maybe even years. In a way, I admire their dedication. It's almost flattering."

A silence fell over the room, ominous and heavy. Izaya's brain still whirred away. He felt so many things all at once. Exhilaration. Anxiety. Even anger. It took Shiki at least five minutes to speak, and even then, he kept his words short.

"What are we going to do?"

"The only thing there is left to do," Izaya grinned, "save them."


	20. 17

**A/N Sorry that it's taken me longer than usual to update! Unfortunately, the next two upcoming weekends are very busy for me, as well, so I might not get the change to post a new chapter until April. Thanks for being patient, and thanks for all the supportive comments! Enjoy!**

That night, they spent hours formulating a plan. At the one-hour mark, a couple of Shiki's men brought them coffee. After drinking half of it, Izaya felt jittery and anxious, so he stopped. At the two-hour mark, they brought them dinner. Izaya wasn't hungry. At the three-hour mark, they brought them sake. Shiki drank half the bottle, Izaya drank none. He needed his mind to be sharp, focused. Many lives were at stake, including his own, and he wasn't in the mood to die.

As they discussed their situation, it became apparent that they actually had a few advantages. The biggest of these advantages was that Shiki and Izaya were to meet them using their own form of transportation. They had given them an address, which was surprising. The only things stopping the two of them from releasing the address to the public were the lives of the hostages. Of course, that was enough to stop them, but the gangs had taken a big risk when they had given them that information. Izaya wasn't sure why they had taken such a risk, but he knew that there had to be a reason. Maybe it was to gauge how much they really cared for the hostages. Izaya couldn't be sure.

Eventually, Shiki suggested that they get some sleep, and the same men that had brought them food and drinks returned with pillows and blankets. The thought of sleeping in that office wasn't appealing, but it was definitely the safest option. After Izaya wrapped himself up in a blanket, he checked the time. It was only four hours until they had to be at the hideout. It was late, but he wasn't tired. Sure, he was emotionally drained, but his mind was still on high alert. Part of him wished that they didn't have to go, but part of him couldn't wait. He experienced intense dread and intense longing at the same time. He wondered if Shiki felt the same way. He almost asked, but when he turned his head to look at him, he realized that Shiki was already asleep.

Izaya closed his eyes. For about 15 minutes, he tried to quiet his mind and sleep, but to no avail. His thoughts kept drifting to Shizuo. He was helpless against his own mind. It was almost as if he had spent so long repressing his feelings, that he had simply run out of energy to do so. Everything about Shizuo now occupied every corner of his brain. The way his hair fell across his forehead. His voice. Even his inhuman strength—something that he had previously seen as terrible and disgusting—seemed strangely attractive to him now. Most of all, however, he wondered how much his captors were making him suffer. He pictured the dark cell he was most likely trapped in, the cold steel of the handcuffs that were most likely encircling his wrists. Headaches. Nightmares. He needed to get him back. Although he didn't want to die, if it was to save Shizuo, maybe, just maybe, he'd be okay with that.

Before he knew it, there was only an hour before they had to be at the hideout. He shook Shiki awake.

"Huh? What time is it?" He asked with a groan.

"Three."

"Goddammit."

Izaya's heartbeat seemed to increase with every passing minute. His stomach churned. He watched as Shiki slowly collected himself.

_January 17. Is this the day I die? Is this the day we all die?_

That thought ran through his mind over and over again, yet he did his best to remain calm on the outside. He didn't want to make Shiki more anxious than he already was. They needed to be as confident as possible in order to make their plan succeed.

A half hour later, they were in a car. Shiki drove. Izaya sat, fidgeting in the passenger seat. Neither of them spoke. The silence was nauseating, but Izaya couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"Everything's all set, right?" Asked Shiki, as they were nearing their destination.

"Yes, I just hope the timing works out."

The hideout was located on at the edge of Ikebukuro, on a long, thin street, under a bridge. Both sides of the road were occupied by warehouses, spaced out a good distance away from each other with large parking lots. Smokestacks towered above them. There were almost no cars in any of the lots, after all, it was still nighttime. It was still completely dark outside.

They pulled into the lot corresponding to address they had been given. The warehouse looked almost identical to the others. Perhaps, it was slightly older. Some of the paint was peeling on the outside of the building, numerous cracks were engraved in the asphalt of the parking lot.

"Hiding in plain sight, it seems," said Shiki.

Izaya had no response. He checked the time. Five minutes until four.

"Shiki?"

"Hm?"

"Would you die for these men of yours?"

"Yes, I would."

"You didn't hesitate at all."

"Why should I? Too many of my people have died because of these gangs, and I can't take it any more. Besides, if they kill me, the boss will definitely get involved. If we can't take these people out, he will. If my death results in something like that, then so be it."

Izaya looked at Shiki with admiration in his eyes. He had seemed like a different person yesterday, nervous, even afraid. This morning, he was determined. Shiki smiled, and spoke, as if he could read Izaya's mind:

"Yesterday, before we came up with the plan, everything seemed hopeless. I was almost certain that we would all die, but now, I think we have a good shot to make it out alive or at least," he paused, mulling his words over, "or at least be able to save those who are precious to us."

"I hope you're right. I hope we can save them."

"Would you die for Heiwajima?"

"I think I would."

"I like this side of you, you know?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"You used to be so selfish. Now, you've found someone you care about more than yourself. I like that."

Again, Izaya didn't know how to respond. A combination of anxiety, fear, and exhaustion had made it so difficult to form words.

"January 17th," He finally said, as they got out of the car.

This time, Shiki didn't speak.

"We might die today."

In the distance, two men exited the building and stood, arms crossed, in front of the doorway. This was it.

"Yes," said Shiki, "we might."


	21. With a Vengeance

**A/N: Sorry that this took me so long! I tried to make this chapter a little longer to compensate. Enjoy!**

With butterflies in their stomachs and heads held high, they approached the building. When they got within a couple hundred feet, Izaya realized that the shorter of the two men was definitely Akito. He was dressed in the same clothes that he had worn to Izaya's apartment: black shirt, black tie, black boots. Same bandaged face. Same affable, yet sturdy posture; arms crossed loosely, one hip jutting out ever so slightly. Izaya's blood ran cold at the sight of him. The bit of confidence he had previously felt had waned considerably. His head was still bandaged, covering the wound Akito had inflicted upon him, and his arm was still in a sling. Suddenly, he felt pathetic. He wondered if Akito felt smug and proud of himself upon seeing him injured. Even though his face was completely obscured by the bandages, Izaya was pretty sure he was grinning.

The taller, heavier man contrasted with Akito in almost every conceivable way. His stance suggested nothing but pure seriousness: arms crossed tightly, feet a shoulder's length width apart, eyes looking straight ahead. White shirt, white tie, white boots. His face was exposed, revealing thick, black eyebrows and a frown. All of a sudden, Shiki stopped walking. Izaya walked a few more paces before realizing this, and then turned around to look at him quizzically.

Shiki knew the man in white. That was obvious. His eyes were unusually wide, his mouth hung open, and Izaya could have sworn that his hands—balled up into fists at his sides—were shaking. For a moment, Izaya wondered if he should say something, but instead he walked back to him, grabbed his sleeve and urged him forward.

"So nice to see you again, . How's your head?" Akito said when they had stopped about ten feet away.

Izaya didn't respond. For some reason, he hadn't been expecting this. He had assumed that they would immediately be led to the boss or bosses of The White Gloves and BH, but neither of the men in front of them showed any signs of moving. Maybe it was an intimidation technique.

_What did the man in white do to Shiki?_ Izaya wondered. He wished he could ask him outright, but that didn't seem like a good idea at all.

"Come on now, we've got time for a chat." Akito's voice had a slick, syrupy quality to it. Dark. It made Izaya's stomach churn.

"What are you doing here?" Shiki asked in a strange tone that didn't sound anything at all like his usual voice. Izaya was surprised that he had even spoken at all.

The man in white was silent. He hadn't moved an inch the entire time. It were as if he were a statue.

"This man—this man used to be one of my men," said Shiki. The words were clearly meant for Izaya, but Shiki stared ahead the whole time, directly into the eyes of the man in white.

_"What?"_

"Kenzo Shima," he paused, crestfallen, "I thought you died."

"Oh that?" Said Akito with a wave of his hand, "ancient history. Kenzo simply wanted out of the Awakusu. He wanted something better. Much better. And he has it now."

No one spoke for a long, painful minute. Eventually, Akito sighed and began again.

"How dense are you, ? No offense, but have you really not put two and two together yet?"

"Shiki? What's he talking about?" Izaya's voice was quiet, barely audible.

"How many of your men died the day Kenzo left? Why?"

"It was the Blue Squares. They cornered my men and five of them died."

"They died because of you!" Yelled Kenzo, suddenly, surprising everyone, even Akito. His loud, booming voice struck Izaya to the core.

"You—_you_ sent us off to settle a goddamn _turf dispute_. It was a suicide mission and you knew that. We told you it was an awful idea and you sent us anyway. We called you for back up and you _ignored us!"_

"I—I—"

_"Shut up! _I lived and I left. Oh god, I've been waiting for this day. I _swore_ I'd avenge my comrades and finally, I can fulfill that promise."

He began slowly, assuredly walking toward Shiki.

_Is this it? _Izaya wondered. His heart was frozen, his feet were rooted to the ground. Part of him wanted to help Shiki, part of him wanted to run far away from this place. He did neither, and stood there motionless, eyes fixed on the impending violence in front of him.

Suddenly, a blur of black flashed by him and Akito stood between Shiki and Kenzo.

"Not yet."

_"Come on!"_ Kenzo's anger was now directed at Akito. They began to argue. Izaya made eye contact with Shiki, trying to silently communicate with him, but he merely shook his head. A thought shot through Izaya's mind and he quickly made a decision.

"Where is he?" He asked, but they weren't paying any attention. He raised his voice and repeated himself: _"Where is he?"_

They stopped arguing, eyes now fixed on Izaya.

"Who?" Asked Kenzo dumbly.

"Where is Shizuo Heiwajima?"

Akito's eyes narrowed. Izaya could tell that below the bandages, he was smiling smugly.

"Oh, I love being right," said Akito.

"What?"

"Nothing, , nothing at all," he turned to Kenzo, "I think it's time we brought them in, don't you?"

Kenzo didn't look like he agreed, but remained silent as Akito patted them down. Izaya hated the whimper that escaped his throat when he roughly searched the sling cradling his arm. After he declared that they were weapon and cell phone-free, he opened the warehouse door and led them inside.

They found themselves in a narrow, dark hallway lit only by a couple of dingy, dim lamps hanging from the high ceiling. The air was freezing and smelled incredibly stale. Despite the darkness, Izaya saw his breath swirl away from him in small, smoky clouds. A shiver ran down his spine. He wondered what Shiki, who was walking a few feet behind him, was thinking. Was he having doubts about their plan?

All of a sudden, a song took a hold of his mind and refused to let go. It was an old song, somber and mourning, slow and weepy. He couldn't recall the name of it or most of its lyrics, but the chorus echoed throughout his head, unwelcome and ominous:

_...And "so long" is what he sings, "so long"_

_"I will see you in my dreams_

_Remember, none of this is what it seems_

_So long, so long…"_

His blood pressure was through the roof, yet his veins remained icy cold. He focused his mind on the possibility of seeing Shizuo. He needed to see him. And when the hallway opened up into a large, bleak storage room he got his wish, and then immediately wished that he hadn't.

The room was somewhat brighter than the hallway, but not by much. Two huge, glass windows adorned the wall ahead of them, not unlike the stained glass windows of a church, although they were certainly less colorful and more grimy. Some of Izaya's anxiety dissipated at the sight of them, a bit of hope took its place. The ceiling was very high up and cardboard boxes were piled against all sides of the room. An earthy smell hung in the freezing air around them. Izaya couldn't quite figure out what it was, but he didn't focus on that for too long because a bloody, bruised Shizuo was tied up, seemingly unconscious, to a chair in the middle of the room.

Izaya's first instinct was to run to him, but he suppressed it. He had never felt so impulsive, so reckless in his life and even though he certainly felt distressed, he also wanted to keep a level head. He knew no good would come of being overly emotional. Not in that situation.

After his moment of panic subsided, Izaya glanced around the room. Slightly behind Shuzuo, to his right, stood two men. One of them was dressed almost exactly like Akito. Black clothes from head from head to toe; however he was much taller with an un-bandaged face. His nose was large and crooked. His eyebrows were impossibly thick. The expression plastered across his face was unreadable. Slightly amused? Angry? A mix?

The other man was dressed like Kenzo, although he was far shorter and stouter. A pair of sunglasses rested upon his balding head. He had one hand in a pocket of his white pants, the other was perched on his hip. Unlike the taller man, his expression was very readable. Disgust.

To the left of Shizuo was a woman. It took Izaya only a few seconds to recognize her as Tamayo Sugiyama. She was dressed in all white, as well. She stood with one ankle hooked behind the other. Her bandages looked fresh. Shinra must have only changed them a few hours prior. Even with her extensive injuries, which much have been causing her a considerable amount of pain, her mouth was turned upward into a superior, sly smile. Izaya felt indescribable rage at the mere sight of her.

_This is your fault, _he wanted to scream, _it's all your fault!_

Once again, he restrained himself, but was unsure what to do. They all stood there in silence, Akito and Kenzo eyeing him and Shiki warily. Suddenly, something caught Izaya's eye. A metallic sheen. On the floor behind the two men, sat a baseball bat, mostly polished and new-looking with the exception of a few, dark splotches. His stomach flipped. He forced himself to take a few long, deep breathes.

"Haruya Shiki and Izaya Orihara, it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance." The sudden speech surprised him. It came from the man in white.

"Shinichi Hamada, and this" he gestured to the man dressed in black, "is Jin Katsuma."

"What do you want?" Izaya asked, hating the desperate tone that had seeped into his words. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

Shinichi let out a strange, throaty laugh. "That's a loaded question, but," he glanced off to the side at Jin who hadn't moved even an inch the whole time, "in the interest of time, I'll give you a summary."

He leaned down, picked up the baseball bat with one hand, and started to swing it back and fourth slightly. He walked over toward Shizuo, slowly, as if he was trying to build some sort of sick suspense. Izaya gulped. Every part of his body screamed at him to run, but he remained still. Shinichi raised the bat and suspended it just inches above Shizuo's skull.

"We want this city, isn't that obvious? But there's more to it than that. Vengeance. Strength."

"Vengeance?" It was Shiki that spoke.

"Yes, I'm sure you've already had a little chat with Kenzo. There was a reason why I picked him to greet you. And Izaya, do you really not recognize Tamayo at all?"

Izaya had no idea what he was talking about. "I'm guessing your silence is a 'no.' Well, her name isn't really Tamayo Sugiyama. No relation to Hiro Igruashi either, although I suspect that you've at least figured_ that_ much out, right? You're a smart man. A very smart man. It would be a mistake to underestimate you."

"Aoi Yoshida," the woman said so quickly she almost cut Shinichi off, "that's my real name. Ring any bells?" Her words were dripping with spite.

Izaya very rarely forgot a face, but she really didn't look familiar to him at all. However, she was pretty beat up. Bruises and bandages obscured her features. She looked even worse somehow than she had when he had interviewed her. The name, however, did jog his memory. He sighed. He did remember her, at least vaguely.

"You don't even have the decency to remember me?"

Izaya was suddenly grateful that Shizuo was most likely not hearing this.

"No, I do remember you." His voice was so quiet he wasn't sure whether or not she heard him.

"I almost _died _because of you. Do you have any idea how hard it was to lie in that hospital bed, pretending that I didn't know you? Pretending that I didn't want to kill you for what you did to me?" Izaya didn't respond. "What kind of _monster _preys on poor teenage girls and tries to get them to commit suicide? If my mom hadn't found me when she did I would have…" her voice trailed off. She was crying.

Izaya felt like he might throw up. In that moment, he despised everything about himself. The silence that filled the room was heavy and sickening. He knew nothing he could say or do would ever make up for the horrible things he had done. He would never be redeemed. However, if he succeeded in saving Shizuo, he could proudly say that he had done at least one good thing with his life.

"Jin's brother was killed by an Awakusu member, my brother was put into a coma by this monster here" he tilted the bat, indicating the unconscious Shizuo below, "we all have a reason to despise you three and the entire Awakusu organization, for that matter. Every step we've taken has been deliberate. Perfectly calculated. We've been so quiet, so careful," he stared right into Izaya's eyes, right into his soul, "we're the White Gloves and the Black Hats, and soon, we will take this city and destroy everyone who gets in our way.


	22. Busted Glass

**A/N Hello there! Sorry it took me almost a month to post this chapter. Also if anyone's interested, I made a Tumblr where I'll be posting fic updates and reblogging Anime and fandom-related things. My URL is shadeofwinefics. Anyway, Enjoy!**

"I know you, of all people, value the power of observation," Shinichi continued, the bat still hovering steadily above Shizuo's head, "I owe everything to observation."

He maintained eye contact with Izaya and raised an eyebrow, expecting a response.

"And?" Izaya asked. Despite his fear and anger, he had grown impatient.

"And it is through simple observation that we have come this far. Well, that and a little bit of computer know-how and muscle."

He raised the bat high above his head, arching his back.

"No," Izaya said. It was almost a whisper. His mouth had run dry.

Shinichi brought the bat down. A scream echoed throughout the room; it took Izaya a second to realize that the scream was coming from his own throat. The air in the room seemed to have gotten colder and Izaya became hyper-aware of everything that surrounded him in that one moment. His heartbeat. Shiki, shuddering next to him. The light in Shinichi's eyes. Akito, leaning against a box, bouncing his leg up and down. The smirk on Jin's face. He averted his eyes, expecting to hear the sickening crack of the bat against Shizuo's skull. However, he heard nothing. Shinichi had stopped mere centimeters above Shizuo's head. He was looking at Izaya with amusement.

"Jin had Akito start following you a few weeks ago. We knew Shiki's weakness was his own men, but we didn't know yours. We couldn't think of anything good enough to lure you here. But soon, your weakness became obvious, _very _obvious," he nudged Shizuo with the tip of the bat, "that was actually very convenient, you know? Two birds with one stone."

It was at this point that Jin stepped forward and walked toward Shiki. A light shining down from the ceiling reflected off of something he carried in his hand. Shiny. Metallic. A long butcher's knife. Izaya hadn't noticed it before as Jin had been standing in a rather shadowy area, but now, it stood out prominently and looked menacing in the florescent lighting. Shiki took a step back, but Kenzo grabbed his shoulder from behind to keep him in his place.

Izaya kept his eyes on the windows.

Jin raised the knife and stabbed Shiki in his left forearm. Shiki howled in pain and crumpled to the floor. Jin hadn't pulled the knife out; instead he reached into the pocket of his black jacket and pulled out another knife, just as long as the first.

"Make that three birds with one stone."

"I'd advise you to keep that knife in," said Jin, his voice cold and monotonous.

Shiki stopped screaming and slowly, but defiantly rose back to his feet. His face was bathed in sweat. Teeth barred, eyes wide.

"I would also advise you to save your strength. You're in for a long and painful death."

He raised the knife, but before he could bring it down, an incredibly loud sound reverberated through the room, striking everyone to the core. Even Izaya and Shiki, who had both expected it, winced and grabbed at their ears.

The sound of breaking glass. A motorcycle revving. A horse neighed and shadows overtook the room. Izaya grinned as he watched Jin, Shinichi and all of their men and women turn and stare as Celty busted through one of the huge windows behind them. Her brakes screeched as she came to a stop a few feet behind Shizuo and immediately swung her scythe so that its blade rested against Shinichi's neck.

"You were careless," said Izaya, his usual confident voice returning to him, "you shouldn't have given us this address." He strode over to Jin, palm upturned. With a scowl, he reluctantly placed the knife in his hand. Shoulders relaxed, heart rate returning to normal, Izaya hurried to Shizuo and effortlessly cut the ropes that bound him to the chair. For a moment, he struggled with his one free arm to bring him down to the ground. Celty eventually used her shadows to assist him.

Shizuo had been badly beaten. His right arm stuck out at an unnatural angle, dried blood caked his face and clothing. What was most concerning—along with the fact that he was still unconscious—was a long gash on his thigh that was slick with fresh blood. Izaya brought two fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse and was relieved when he could feel the slow, but steady beats of his heart. He moved his fingers under his nose, smiling when he felt Shizuo's warm breath against his skin. Tenderly, he brushed his sticky hair off of his forehead and eyelids and gazed down at his pale face. After a moment, he shook him, as hard as he dared, willing him to wake up. It was no use. He was out cold.

"Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way," Izaya said, rising to his feet, "either you disband and leave town or," Izaya paused, making sure to look Shinichi in the eye with all the strength he could muster, "you'll all die."

"We can talk about this," said Shinichi, his voice less boisterous, but not necessarily fearful.

"I'm done talking. You can agree to my terms or die."

Shinichi let out a hardy laugh. Izaya tried to not let any hint of surprise show on his face.

"My death wouldn't mean anything to these people. Don't you get it? The only reason we all banded together was to take you down at any cost. I was leading the White Gloves when I happened to find Jin and the Black Hats. We damn near started a gang war before we realized we shared the same goal. As soon as the Black Rider swings that scythe of hers, they'll all be on you before you can even blink."

"How many people are in here? Thirty? Forty? Do you really think that could stop the Black Rider?"

"Maybe not, but she's not their target. Are you willing to gamble that she can protect you, Shiki, and Shizuo all at the same time?"

A scream emanated from Shiki once again. A new knife had been thrust into his right forearm, and Jin appeared to be readying a third. A new wave of anger and disgust washed over Izaya. He turned to Celty.

"Do it," he said.

Celty drew her arms back and without hesitating, sliced through Shinichi in one fluid motion.

After that, all hell broke loose.


	23. Knives

The Black Hats and White Gloves charged at them from all sides. Even though they were sprinting at full speed, time seemed to slow to a standstill as adrenaline surged through Izaya like an electric shock. He had a choice to make. Celty could hold off a lot of them, but certainly not all of them. If he didn't run to protect Shiki, he was sure that Jin would kill him in a matter of minutes. However, if he left Shizuo unconscious and defenseless, he wasn't sure if he would make it out alive either. Besides, Izaya had only one working arm and he knew his reflexes were slower than usual because of his head injury. Thus, there was also a possibility that he wouldn't be able to save Shiki or Shizuo. While at least ten people swarmed Celty, Izaya noticed that two people were charging at him specifically. Akito and Aoi. His feet felt like they were glued to the ground. He gritted his teeth and readied the knife at his side. However, in a split second decision, he turned his attention toward Celty. Her back was facing him, her arms moving with her scythe and shadows to keep her attackers at bay. For one brief second, no one was attacking her and that was when Izaya yelled her name.

She turned toward him, light reflecting off of her motorcycle helmet. His eyes darted from Shizo to her. He didn't need to say anything. In one quick motion, she wrapped him up in a large shadow, shielding him. Izaya took a deep breath and smiled at her in thanks.

Akito and Aoi were only about thirty or so feet away from him. He turned on his heel and ran as fast as his legs would allow to Shiki, who was still kneeling on the ground. A third knife had been thrust into his right shoulder. It seemed that even though time was running out, Jin still wanted to torture him as long as he possibly could. Izaya winced.

Jin's back was turned toward Izaya. His mind raced. It would be easy to incapacitate him, but as soon as he did that, he knew that Akito and Aoi would be on him. He had to risk it though if Shiki had any hope of surviving. Despite the desperation Izaya was feeling, this moment struck him as almost funny. Even just a few days earlier, he never would have risked his life to save anyone else's, but there he was, doing all he could to save another person. Without hesitating, he drove the knife into Jin's back, just under one of his shoulder blades. Surprisingly, he didn't scream, but choked on a sharp intake of breath. A knife that had been clenched in his hand clattered to the ground and he went down with it. Izaya removed his own knife and Jin's blood began to spread out onto the floor, pooling around him in a slick, red puddle.

Shiki looked up at him with a glimmer of thanks in his eyes before his expression suddenly turned to one of fear. He was looking behind Izaya.

"Run, Shiki. Get out of here and get to Shinra's if you can," Izaya said urgently before spinning and facing Akito and Aoi head on.

Akito went around to his right, brandishing a long, metal pipe. Aoi darted around to his left, a katana clasped in her hands gleamed in the florescent lighting. There was no way he could defend himself from both attacks. He decided to defend against Akito, who was clearly aiming for his skull. The last thing he needed was another concussion. Aoi had been aiming for his legs. As he raised the knife to deflect the pipe, he prayed that she wouldn't cut him too deeply and braced for the stabbing pain that was sure to come. However, it did not. Instead, he heard the distinct sound of steel on steel.

Shiki hadn't run. Instead, he had taken a knife out of his left forearm and had managed to block Aoi's attack. Afterwards, the knife shot out of his hand and skidded across the floor. His arm had been too weak to hold it properly, and now his arm was bleeding. Heavily.

Before Izaya could yell at him, Akito brought down the pipe again. He managed to spin out of the way, but found himself in a corner. To his left, he heard Shiki groan in pain. He decided to slice at Akito, but his flailing, desperate motions were no match for his superior reflexes and strength. Akito slammed the pipe into Izaya's wrist, causing him to drop his own knife. The air grew quiet and hazy around them.

"So, this is it," Izaya whispered, pulse pounding in his ears.

"I suppose it is."

"Can I ask you something?"

Akito gave a non-committal shrug, but did not move to strike again.

"What did I do to you?"

The bandages on his face shifted in a way that made Izaya pretty sure that he was smiling.

"To me? Nothing at all," he dropped the pipe to his side, "Aoi's my girlfriend. I'm doing this for her, but," he paused, looking Izaya right in the eye, "I've grown to respect you."

"Huh?" Izaya couldn't stop the surprise from leaking into his voice.

"Don't get me wrong, I still hate you for what you did and I do plan on killing you, but I've realized that you and I are actually very similar people."

"How do you figure?"

"We're both driven by love, aren't we? Before I actually met you, I assumed that you were heartless and cared for no one, yet here you are risking your life for not only the man you love but," he paused looking over at Shiki who was doing his best to dodge Aoi's katana, "a friend? That's commendable, Information Broker."

"Uh, thanks?"

"However, it's not commendable enough." He raised the pipe again, but before he could strike, a darkness swept him and Aoi across the room into a large, concrete wall. After they crashed to the floor, the room grew silent. It took only a second for Izaya to realize that Celty had managed to knock out everyone else in the room. Before he could thank her, she transformed her motorcycle into a carriage with the wave of her hand and motioned for him to bring Shiki over.

She unwrapped Shizuo from the shadows and placed him on one of the seats. Izaya managed to help Shiki into the carriage. He had been cut a few more times by Aoi, and was bleeding more than he had been before. Once he sat, Izaya scooted in next to him and Celty tore out of the building, through the window she had crashed into. Outside, the carriage landed hard on the pavement and then sped away down the street toward Shinra's. Then, and only then did Izaya dare to breathe a sigh of relief.


	24. For Sure

**A/N: Sorry that this took me longer than usual! Thank you for all your kind reviews and support. I'll try to update sooner next time, but until then, Enjoy!**

Izaya sat with Shizuo the whole time. In Celty's carriage, he ran his fingers through his damp, bloodied hair. In a corner of the operating room, he sat on a creaky, metal stool, even after Shinra ordered him to leave. He refused, not even looking up at him as he did so, because he didn't want to take his eyes off Shizuo. After a few moments, Shinra's shoulders relaxed and he resigned himself to the fact that Izaya wasn't going to budge. When the operation was over, they rolled Shizuo to a different room on a gurney. They lifted him into a hospital bed that was clad in pristine white sheets, and covered him with a soft comforter. Hooked up to an IV and a heart monitor, Shizuo was completely passed out and no one could be certain if or when he would wake up.

"Extensive injuries," Shinra had said as they took him into surgery, "cracked skull, broken tibia, probably a grade three concussion, he's probably bleeding internally too, judging by the swelling in his abdomen…" Izaya couldn't completely focus on what he was saying, but he didn't miss the final words Shinra had said before he began operating, "I'm going to do my best, but I can't promise anything." His tone was uncharacteristically serious. When he spoke, he had gazed into Izaya's eyes with the utmost sympathy.

In Shizuo's hospital room, Izaya sat next to his bed. His mind was unusually blank, and seemed to focus on only a few unimportant details. The scent of disinfectant. A noisy bird, chirping close to the only window in the room. Feet shuffling in the hall. The steady beat of Shizuo's heart monitor, which was the only truly comforting noise. His eyes roamed over Shizuo's motionless body. The blanket covered most of it, although his right leg, engulfed in a cast, stuck out, being supported by a sling. His hair was pushed back from his forehead, revealing bandages that Izaya knew hid a couple dozen stitches. One hand rested limply at his side. Izaya reached out. For a second, he hesitated to touch it, but then caressed his palm with a few of his fingers. It was rough. Calloused. He wove their fingers together, noting the differences that their hands had. Shizuo's was so much bigger and dryer, the skin flaking off around the nails. He enjoyed how this warm, hardened skin contrasted with his own, softer skin. He had never really thought that his skin was particularly smooth, but compared to Shizuo's, it was like silk.

"I'm sorry," he whispered so quietly, he wasn't even sure he had said it at all. There was so much he wanted to say, but exhaustion had taken a hold of his mind. He felt as though he had been awake for days, even weeks. He laid his head down on the bed, feeling the soft blanket against his cheek. In just a few minutes, he was asleep, his fingers still intertwined with Shizuo's.

When he awoke with a stale mouth and aching neck, he couldn't be sure how much time had passed. It was still light outside. Somewhere, a bird was chirping and he wondered whether or not it was the same one he had heard before. His fingers felt stiff, so he reluctantly removed them from Shizuo's unmoving hand, bending them sporadically to get the blood flowing again. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone.

"Hey," a strained, deep voice said from over his shoulder. Izaya almost jumped, but managed to remain calm, turning around to see that it was only Shiki, leaning against the wall next to the door. "How's he doing?"

Izaya raised an eyebrow as if to say _How do you think?_ Shiki gave a weary smile in response. "How are your…arms?" Izaya asked, trying to remember where exactly Shiki had been stabbed.

"Not too bad, surprisingly. Shinra said I was lucky. That bastard _just," _he held up two fingers only a couple centimeters apart, "missed an artery in my upper arm. He did a number on my right forearm, and I lost a decent amount of blood from my left, but Shinra says I'll eventually heal."

"I'm glad to hear that." Izaya surprised himself by smiling and realizing that he was telling the truth. He really was happy to hear that Shiki was going to be okay. Shiki seemed slightly taken aback, as well. His eyes had grown wide; his lips were pursed and pulled off to the side.

"Yeah, uh, thanks by the way."

"For what?"

"If you hadn't stabbed Jin when you did, I don't know if I'd still be here."

"I should be thanking you. If you didn't block Aoi, I don't know if I'd still be here."

Shiki's smile grew, "I guess we make a pretty good team."

"I suppose we do," said Izaya, a certain smugness befalling him before a beep from the heart monitor brought him back to reality. He could feel the muscles in his face deflate.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," said Shiki, although his tone certainly didn't sound confident at all, "this is Shizuo we're talking about. He's been shot multiple times. Who even knows how many bones he's broken."

As true as that was, it didn't make Izaya feel any better.

"How about you, by the way? Akito got you with that pipe, didn't he?"

"Yeah, I'm fine though, just some bruising."

They were quiet for a while after that. Shiki took a seat in an armchair in the corner of the room. Izaya almost told him to leave, but realized that he didn't actually want him to. It made him feel a little better to not be completely alone. After about a half hour, the door creaked open to reveal Shinra and Celty. Darkness encircled Shinra's eyes. His tie was crooked; his lab coat was wrinkled. There was no trace of his usual pep or optimism. Just the mere sight of him made Izaya's heart sink.

Despite not having any facial features, it was obvious that Celty too, seemed utterly gutted. Her shoulders sagged; her neck was bent forward. She fidgeted with her fingers.

Izaya couldn't speak. His mouth was impossibly dry.

"I'm sorry," Shinra began, "I'm still not sure if he'll live through this. I'm just here to change his IV."

"But he is stable, _right?_" Asked Shiki.

"Yes, for now."

Izaya watched Shinra as he worked. There was something almost calming about the methodic way he moved. He barely blinked. It was like his muscles and bones were on autopilot. It only took him a couple minutes to change Shizuo's IV and check his vitals. Then, he and Celty left without a word.

"Do you remember what I said in your car this morning?" Izaya asked.

"We said a lot."

"You asked me if I'd die for him, and I said that I thought I would."

"Yeah?"

"Now, I know for sure that I would. Sitting here right now, sitting next to him and having to see him like this," Izaya inhaled sharply, his breath catching painfully in his throat, "I wish I had."

Shiki didn't respond.

A few moments later, the heart monitor began to beep frantically.


	25. Rest

**A/N I am so sorry for the wait! I've had a few hectic weeks at work, but I finally managed to find some time this weekend to write and edit. I promise that the next chapter won't take so long. Enjoy!**

Izaya flung the door open and yelled Shinra's name as loud as he possibly could. His muscles had moved on their own. He didn't even comprehend what he had done until he saw Shinra sprinting down the hallway, Celty alongside him. It felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the entire building. Time slowed. It looked like Shinra and Celty were running toward him in show motion, their feet connecting with the floor only once every few minutes. His heart hammered in his chest, his throat, and his ears. He had never heard it beat so loudly, so violently in his entire life. His brain felt empty. That was a new sensation. Even more than empty, in fact, it felt hollow. It felt like he'd never be able to think again. It was pure helplessness and he absolutely hated it, but there was nothing he could do.

Shinra and Celty nearly crashed into him as they bolted into the room. Despite their speed, however, they appeared calm. There was no glint of terror in Shinra's eyes, no shaking limbs or sweaty palms. Izaya watched as they examined Shizuo, the heart monitor was still blaring in the background. Other mechanical noises were echoing throughout the room, as well. Blinking lights from machines that Izaya couldn't identify, blinded him, debilitating him even further. Shinra and Celty weren't talking, just moving. They were so methodical, every arm extension or shift of their feet was practiced and calculated. After a few seconds or minutes—Izaya no longer had any concept of time—Shinra looked back at him with a mixture of sympathy and seriousness.

"Get out of here."

"No," Izaya croaked. He was honestly surprised that he had been able to speak at all. His tongue felt bloated and tasted like sand.

"Shiki, bring him to my office," said Shinra, his eyes now focused on Shizuo, "get him some water."

"No," Izaya repeated as Shiki took him by his good arm and gently tried to urge him out of the room. He didn't move.

"Come on, Izaya," Shiki's voice was strangely soft, almost paternal, like a father comforting his upset son, "they need to focus, okay?"

Izaya felt himself slowly, reluctantly nod. He let Shiki lead him out of the room into the brightly lit hallway. Shiki closed the door behind them, but he could still hear all the machines beeping frantically.

Neither of them spoke during the short walk to Shinra's office. Izaya wasn't sure if he was grateful for the silence or despised it. Everything just felt so wrong, and it had all happened so suddenly.

Shiki made Izaya sit down on the striped couch in Shiki's office. The fabric was worn and faded, white stuffing stuck out here and there. The colors looked strange, like they didn't fit together at all. Was that stripe orange or brown? Pink or red? He traced along the edge of one of the stripes with the nail of his index finger. He thought that it was strange that he was noticing arbitrary details of Shinra's couch while a person he cared about was potentially dying just a few rooms over. Maybe that's just how shock worked. Was he in shock? Should he ask Shiki? Would he know? His mind was all questions and no answers.

Shiki placed a mug of water in his hands.

"All the cups in the kitchen were dirty," he explained, although Izaya hadn't asked or even looked at him. He didn't even realize that he had left the room at all. He took a sip of the water. It didn't taste like anything. It didn't even feel wet in his mouth. Shiki took a seat on the couch, forearms supported on his thighs, hands clasped in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, Izaya saw him open his mouth as if he was going to say something, but he closed it.

"What if I never get to tell him?" Izaya asked. He wasn't sure if he meant to say it out loud or not.

"Tell him what? That you love him?"

Izaya shook his head, "That I'm sorry for everything I did to him. This is all my fault. Not just what's happening now, but _everything_."

Shiki didn't say anything.

"He deserves an apology. No, he deserves so much more than that, but I don't know if I'll…" his voice trailed off, the words caught in his throat. It took him a moment to realize that he was crying. It wasn't dramatic, like he imagined it being. Tears weren't streaming down his face. There was no loud sobbing or snot running out of his nose. His cheeks were damp and his face felt warm. His throat and mouth felt raw, as if someone had rubbed them with sandpaper. Using his sleeve, he dabbed at his eyes. For a split second, he felt as though he might laugh, after all this entire situation was absurd. When was the last time he, Izaya Orihara, had cried? Even he didn't know.

A warmth spread across his shoulders. He looked up and realized that Shiki had put an arm around him.

"I'm sorry," Shiki said. Izaya so desperately wanted him to say something like _"I'm sure he'll be fine!" _or _"You don't need to worry!" _But he didn't. Izaya was pretty sure he didn't because he didn't want to lie to him. There was no guarantee he was ever going to see Shizuo alive again. That thought sent more tears spilling onto his cheeks.

_"Damn it,"_ he said, furiously wiping his eyes.

Izaya wasn't sure how long they were sitting there before someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," said Shiki.

Celty appeared and walked over to them, phone in her outstretched hand. It took a moment for Izaya to focus his sore eyes on the screen.

_He's in surgery again. He was bleeding internally. Shinra is doing everything he can._

"Thank you," said Izaya faintly, with a small nod.

Celty typed out another message and held it back out to him.

_I'm sorry. I'm going to go back now and help him. I'll be back when we know more. _

Izaya managed to crack a weary smile in thanks, and then Celty turned and left the room.

Despite everything that was happening, Izaya suddenly felt exhausted. All the energy, emotional, mental, and physical had been drained out of his body. His eyelids were impossibly heavy. His heartbeat had slowed.

"Shiki?"

"Hm?"

"I think I'd like to lie down."

"Okay," Shiki stood and began to look around Shinra's office. There was a cabinet by the door that caught his attention. Izaya watched him open it. It was utterly packed with books and bandages, but Shiki managed to find a stiff pillow and a ratty-looking blanket. He slipped the pillow under Izaya's head and pulled the blanket up to his chin.

"Thanks."

"Get some rest, if you can."

Izaya closed his eyes and blacked out almost immediately. What came to him, however, wasn't necessarily rest or sleep, but unconsciousness.


	26. Nightmares and Apologies

**A/N: I am so, so sorry about how long it took me to finish this chapter! I usually try to update at least once a month, but I totally failed this time. I've had a busy summer, and seeing as I'm going on vacation in a couple days and have literally no free time for the next month, I really wanted to post this tonight. Anyway, thank you and I hope you enjoy!**

The much needed sleep brought nightmares with it. They were swirling, hazy nightmares that danced through Izaya's mind with malice; taunting him. Some of them had basis in reality, but even the ones that didn't, still seemed so lifelike. One moment he was watching Aoi and Akito being swept across the storage room, the next he was being chased down the streets of Ikebukuro by some sort of monster. It wasn't large or muscular. It was dark and tall with wide, sharp shoulders and pointed feet. Maybe it wasn't a monster, but a human. Izaya wasn't sure. Its arms stretched out at unnatural angles, its wide grin was crooked and feral. Claws slashed out at him. Or maybe they were nails. Whatever the creature was, it was deeply, soul-shockingly terrifying. Izaya's veins had tuned to ice upon seeing it. His heart raced as he ran, looking back every now and then to see the humanoid monster gaining on him as the streetlights illuminated its shadowy skin. Did it have skin? Scales?

Suddenly, the nightmare had changed again. He found himself in what appeared to be a green, grassy field. The sky above him was slate gray and unmoving. Light, misty rain coated his skin and dusted his hair. A muffled sound came from something behind him, low and foreboding. He turned. The noise had been a voice. Shiki stood before him, eyes downcast. He wore a black suit and a sympathetic expression. He had continued to speak, but Izaya couldn't hear what he was saying; it was as if Izaya was underwater and Shiki was trying to talk to him from land. He opened his own mouth, but no words came out. It was at that moment he realized that he wasn't actually in a field. Gravestones stuck out of the grass like rotten, unpicked vegetables. There was a large pile of dirt behind Shiki. Izaya instantly knew what had happened. Acid burned in his throat, something sharp dug into his heart. _No…no…no…_

His eyes sprung open. Sweat covered his skin, from his forehead to the soles of his feet. His heart pounded. His mouth opened as his lungs greedily gulped in air as fast as they could. Izaya kicked off the blanket and rose to a sitting position. He was alone. Was this a dream too? He didn't have time to dwell on this thought because a second later, the door opened revealing a haggard-looking Celty. Her shoulders were slumped, her footsteps slower and lazier than usual. Izaya swallowed. His heart sank.

_He's awake_, read the screen of her phone when she held it out to his face. They were the two most beautiful words he had ever seen.

"Can I see him?" Izaya asked. Celty's neck flexed back and forth; the closest thing to a nod she could manage. As he stood, butterflies began to flutter in his stomach. He was relieved, of course, but his uncontainable nervousness had eclipsed the joy he had instantly felt upon receiving the news.

Celty led him down the corridor to the same room Shizuo had been in before. Izaya's blood ran cold as she opened the door.

Shizuo was lying, slightly propped up in bed. His eyes were open, staring dully at the ceiling; his hands were folded over his stomach, fingers intertwined with each other. Wires stuck out from underneath the blankets, connecting him to a variety of machines that surrounded him. An IV to his right dripped, slowly and dutifully a few times every minute. He was here. He was alive.

The few seconds it took for Izaya to walk to his bedside seemed like an eternity. Every step took minutes, maybe even hours. Izaya had lost all sense of time.

Shizuo's eyes flicked in his direction, but his expression didn't change at all. His clouded over pupils gave nothing away. His mouth was pressed into a hard line.

Izaya gingerly sat at his bedside, resting his hand lightly on the sheets, as close to Shizuo as he dared. The silence that washed over them was nauseating.

"How are you feeling?" Izaya's throat was dry, and the words came out in a raspy tone.

Shizuo shut his eyes. Izaya wasn't sure if he was contemplating the question or if he was too exhausted to speak. Even the man's very skin seemed exhausted; pale and limp like a ghost. There were dark crescent moons etched into the areas below his eyes. Izaya looked over at Celty, silently pleading with her to tell him what he should do. Comforting people was not his specialty. She shrugged. Despite her lack of a head, she seemed to be staring into his soul, as if she were trying to pass on some valuable piece of wisdom. A moment later, she left. Izaya couldn't be sure why, but he was pretty sure she did so that he would have to deal with this situation on his own. No one could help him. He was the only one who could atone for his sins.

"I'm sorry," Izaya said in a whisper. Shizuo's eyes snapped open. He looked at him, lips parted as if surprised. Seeing him, pained and broken in a hospital bed caused words to flood out of Izaya like a typhoon. "I don't know where to begin. I don't know how I can possibly apologize for what I've done to you. I don't know if there's anything I can ever do to make anything up to you. The violence. The anguish. I've destroyed you. Why? How could I do this? I projected my own monstrosity upon you, a human being; a kind, good human being, because it was so much easier to see you as a monster than it was to see myself as one. And it was so much easier to see you as an enemy than it was to see you as a…" Izaya trailed off, suddenly aware of how much he had been babbling. He didn't know what their relationship was anymore. No longer enemies, but not quite friends and certainly not lovers either.

The fingers on Shizuo's left hand began to twitch. Izaya watched as he slowly, shakily lifted the hand and brought it down just a centimeter away from Izaya's own hand. With his heart pounding and cheeks flushed, Izaya intertwined his fingers with Shizuo's. Both of their hands were clammy and bruised, but warm, so very, very warm. When Izaya looked back up, Shizuo's eyes were closed again; his chest rose and fell steadily. Izaya took in his sleeping face. It was so peaceful. Even with his injuries and sickly skin, he looked so calm, maybe even happy. Izaya smiled. He knew that one apology wasn't enough to repair what he had done, but it was a start.

The heart monitor beeped slowly. Footprints echoed from down the hall. Shizuo breathed deeply. Izaya watched, and began to inhale and exhale in unison with him. In that moment, that one peaceful, quiet moment, everything seemed fine; everything seemed beautiful.

"I love you."


	27. Warmth in the Winter

**A/N: Thank you, as always for your patience and comments! This will most likely be the second to last chapter. Enjoy!**

Three weeks later, Shinra announced that Shizuo was well enough to go home. His bruises and cuts had healed and he no longer needed an IV. He would need to be in a wheelchair or use crutches for a few more weeks until his leg healed, but other than that, he was mostly back to his old self. It was clear to everyone that weeks in a hospital bed had made him antsy. He was constantly fidgeting with his fingers. The expression he carried on his face was a mixture of gloominess and frustration.

Tom came by to visit him a few times. The first time, Shizuo had apologized profusely for not being able to work. Izaya watched as Tom scolded him for worrying about such a thing. "Just focus on getting better, okay?" Tom had said with a smile. Shizuo had looked upset—his eyes, downcast, a frown plastered onto his face. One aspect of Shizuo's personality came through to Izaya in that moment. He hated to feel useless. He hated to let people down. Izaya had felt the guilt rise in his throat like hot bile.

However, it appeared that Shizuo didn't want Izaya to blame himself. Every time Izaya brought up what had happened—with the exception of his original, heartfelt apology at his bedside—Shizuo would silence him with a wave of his hand.

"It's not your fault. Those two gangs wanted you and me dead, and there's nothing we could have done about it. Besides, you saved me," he had said during one of Izaya's attempted apologies.

Although he had been one of the people to save Shizuo, Izaya didn't want to claim credit for it. If Shiki hadn't been there or if Celty hadn't shown up, they both probably would have died. Not to mention the fact that Shizuo had been captured, in part, to get to Izaya. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to forgive himself for that.

"So, where do you wanna go?" Asked Shinra as they wheeled Shizuo out of his hospital room for the final time.

It was a question that had been debated for some time. Izaya wanted him to stay at his apartment so that he could watch over him and help him recuperate. Shizuo always said that he didn't want to burden him, and that he should just go home to his own apartment. These arguments had no winners. Both of them were so stubborn in their opinions, that they had waited until the last minute to resolve the issue.

"He's coming home with me," said Izaya before Shizuo had a chance to speak. Shizuo looked up at him, clearly annoyed, but didn't protest this time.

They helped him into Celty's carriage and drove to Shinjuku. Everyone was quiet during the journey. They should have been happy, or at least content. After all, Izaya was completely healed, other than the twinge of pain he got in his shoulder from time to time, and Shizuo had pulled through, as well. But they had never celebrated. They felt lucky to be alive, but didn't voice this out loud. Maybe they were worried that they weren't quite out of the woods yet. The Black Hats and White Gloves weren't necessarily gone. Shiki and some of his men had gone to check out the warehouse a few days after the battle had taken place. He hadn't found anything. No bodies. No blood. Nothing. None of the papers had reported what had happened. There were no police reports. It was pretty obvious that someone affiliated with the gangs had cleaned the place up before anyone else could see what had happened. None of them had discussed this either, although they all knew that it would need to be discussed sooner or later.

It didn't take long to get to Izaya's apartment. They had left Shinra's at sundown, and now the sky was pitch black. A crescent moon hung overhead. No stars were visible.

"I'll sleep on the couch," said Shizuo as Izaya unlocked the door.

"Don't be ridiculous."

Celty wheeled the reluctant, yet silent Shizuo to Izaya's room and helped him into the bed. She asked Izaya if they needed anything else before she left. Izaya shook his head. Shinra had given them medicine to manage Shizuo's pain and the bit of swelling he still had. Everything else, Izaya could take care of.

"Thank you," Izaya said quietly as Celty left his apartment. She turned on her heel, started at him a moment, and gave him a short wave before turning back around and walking toward the elevator.

His apartment was eerily silent. The fridge emitted a steady, low hum, but other than that, he couldn't hear anything. He and Shizuo hadn't been alone together for a while, and Izaya felt his heart began to beat faster as anxiety flooded his mind. He poured a glass of water before entering his bedroom.

"Do you need anything?" He asked, his voice slightly higher pitched than usual. He placed the glass of water on the nightstand next to Shizuo.

"No, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The silence that followed was awkward and maddening. Izaya couldn't take it.

"Are you mad at me?"

Shizuo looked at him, mouth open in surprise.

"I wouldn't blame you if you were, you know? Please, just tell me what you're thinking." Izaya looked at the ground.

"Are you tired?" Shizuo asked.

"Yeah, a bit…I guess." Izaya hadn't been expecting the question. It seemed like a strange response.

"Can we go to sleep?"

"Uh, yeah, of course. Do you need to use the bathroom?"

Shizuo shook his head.

"Alright. Goodnight, then. Just call for me if you need anything."

Izaya turned to go, but Shizuo stopped him.

"Wait, I don't want you to sleep on the couch," he paused, "I want you to sleep here. With me."

Izaya felt a warmth flood his body. He knew he was blushing.

"Uh…okay. I-I'll be right back."

Izaya almost ran to the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face and vigorously brushed his teeth. _I sounded so stupid back there. What's wrong with me?_ He thought as he tore a brush through his hair. _Why am I so nervous? What am I afraid of?_ He wanted this. He loved Shizuo. However, this seemed like it was going way too fast. He had never slept next to anyone before. It seemed to him like he was letting his guard down. Intimacy wasn't his strong suit.

He changed into a long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants. It was February now, and even in his apartment, the air was cold and biting. His feet were numb. His eyes felt dry and unfocused.

He took a series of deep breaths as he walked back to his bedroom. They did little to calm his nerves. Around him, the apartment was dark barren. Light faintly seeped in through the curtains covering his living room window. Streetlights. Headlights shining from cars rocketing to and from unknowable origins and destinations. He stepped inside his room.

Shizuo hadn't moved. He sat there, propped up on a couple of pillows and stared straight at Izaya. Neither of them spoke. Eventually, Shizuo sank onto the bed, sighing as his back straightened out against the mattress. After a moment of hesitation, Izaya scooted in next to him, leaving almost a foot of space between them.

"What is this?" Izaya finally asked, unable to bear the silence any longer. "What are we?"

Izaya heard Shizuo roll over. He was pretty sure he was staring at him. "What do you want to be?" Shizuo asked.

Izaya couldn't form words. He had no exact, correct answer. No words existed that could possibly represent what they had been, what they were now, and what they could be in the future. Instead, Izaya decided to answer by leaning over and cupping Shizuo's face in his hands. He ran a thumb over his skin until he found his lips. He planted a soft peck there before pulling away, heart racing.

However, they weren't apart for long. Shizuo grabbed the back of Izaya's head and pulled him in close while running his fingers through his hair. The gesture caused warmth to rise in Izaya's cheeks. He felt hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Shizuo brought their lips together. After a moment, Izaya parted his lips and slid his tongue out, intertwining it with Shizuo's. Shizuo sighed and ran his hands up Izaya's chest. A minute later, he broke this kiss and made his way down Izaya's neck, leaving small, delicate kisses in his wake. Izaya gasped as Shizuo began sucking and nibbling at the base of his throat. He grabbed onto Shizuo's strong shoulders to steady himself.

Shizuo stopped and tugged at Izaya's shirt, which Izaya then hurriedly ripped off before helping Shizuo out of his own shirt. As the room was dark, neither of them could really see the other. Instead, they felt their way up each other's chests. Izaya gingerly traced his fingers over Shizuo's abs. Shizuo stroked the curve of Izaya's spine. Izaya felt a shiver run through him and he melted further into Shizuo's embrace.

Shizuo yawned, and Izaya felt a twinge of panic run through him. Was he boring him? Had he done something wrong?

"I'm really sorry," Shizuo said with in a groggy tone, "these pain meds make me tired."

"That's okay," said Izaya softly. He was relieved. "Let's go to bed."

Izaya flipped over onto his side and Shizuo snuggled up behind him. His right arm curled around Izaya's stomach, bringing him close. Suddenly, he felt so, indescribably peaceful. A few seconds later, Shizuo began to snore softly. It took no time at all for Izaya to fall asleep, as well, feeling warm and safe in Shizuo's arms.


	28. Spring

**A/N: Hey there! I am so sorry that I disappeared for a few months. Life and work were super crazy. Fortunately, I've had a few long weekends because of the holidays and was able to finally write this final chapter. To make up for my absence, this is my longest, most carefully written chapter, so I hope you like it! A huge thank you to all of you for reading, providing feedback, and for being patient with me over the course of the (almost) two years it took for me to write this. There is a possibility that I could write a sequel to this down the road, but for now, I hope you enjoy its conclusion. If you want updates on any future fics I write, you can follow me on Tumblr at: shadeofwinefics. Thank you again, and Happy New Year!**

Spring came to Ikebukuro two months after their showdown with the Black Hats and White Gloves. The snow melted into puddles. Small, green buds had begun to appear on tree branches. The sun shone a little brighter and a little longer, and birds flocked to the city once more. Citizens shed their bulky coats and boots for light jackets and sneakers. The streets were fuller and louder. Everyone emitted joy and walked around with rejuvenated spirits; everyone that is, except for Izaya Orihara.

He stood in his office, back to the desk, facing the window. One of his feet tapped against the floor, a few of his fingers were pressed against his lips. Although he was gazing out of the window, his eyes were glazed over and looking at nothing in particular. A cloud of paranoia had been following him for months, never leaving his side, engulfing his mind completely whenever his phone buzzed or his door opened. He rarely slept, and when he did, it was fitful and unsatisfying. The slightest noises woke him. Relentless nightmares haunted him.

"Shiki's here to see you."

He knew that Namie was there, sitting at her desk behind him, but her voice still made him jump. After forcing himself to relax his shoulders, he turned around as calmly as he could and faced her with a smile.

"Buzz him in."

After the incident, Izaya tightened up his security as much as possible. He had cameras installed in the hallway and by his front door, installed a keypad and changed it's combination every couple of weeks, and had a computer expert help him secure the data on all of his hard drives and phones. At Shinra's suggestion, he had all the windows changed to bulletproof glass. He knew none of these things made his apartment completely impenetrable, but they at least eased his paranoia a little.

"How are you holding up?" Asked Shiki after he took a seat in front of Izaya's desk.

Izaya forced himself to sit, and tried to resist the urge to bounce his leg or fiddle with his fingers. "I'm fine."

Shiki raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him in the slightest. What they went through had strengthened their bond. Their relationship had gone from being a necessary, businesslike partnership to something akin to friendship. Neither of them brought this up, but the fact was that they felt almost completely comfortable around each other now, which provided a respite from the anxiety they were constantly facing.

"I'm _improving_," Izaya said after a moment of silence. "And I might feel even better depending on what you have for me today."

Shiki smirked and reached for the briefcase at his feet. "How's he doing?" He asked as he rummaged through the briefcase.

"Better," Izaya replied, "Almost back to normal."

"Good."

Izaya glanced at his phone and pressed the home button. His wallpaper—a picture of Shizuo and him taken only a few days prior in front of Ikebukuro station—illuminated the screen. No texts. No calls. He was supposed to meet up with Shizuo that night for dinner, but they hadn't made specific plans.

Shiki placed a short stack of papers on the desk and slid them toward Izaya without looking up at him. His eyes were fixed on something that was still inside his briefcase. Izaya eyed him carefully for a moment before he picked up the papers and began to flip through them.

Most of the papers consisted of photographs. A few of them—apparently taken a week or so prior by a security camera in Shibuya, according to Shiki—depicted a woman who bared a slight resemblance to Aoi. She wore a thick, woolen hat and a long scarf. It was hard to see her face. There were pictures of a man that resembled Akito, as well, taken outside of a nightclub in Roppongi. More of the pages contained brief notes, mostly conjectures made by Shiki's men and by Shiki himself. There were a few printouts of chat rooms that contained mentions of the Black Hats or the White Gloves, and tracking reports that showed who had posted about them. Most of the accounts, however, had used proxy servers, so any information regarding them was limited and untrustworthy.

Izaya placed the stack of papers back on the desk, and brought a hand to his temples. They still had so little information, and the information they did have was unreliable. He looked up at Shiki, whose eyes were still fixed on the briefcase.

"What?"

Shiki sighed. He placed a single piece of seemingly blank paper on the desk and covered it with his hand. "I'm 99.9% sure I know who this is. It's the only accurate photograph we've gotten over the past few months, but," Shiki paused. The seriousness that had entered his voice sent shivers down Izaya's spine. "I still want you to confirm this." He flipped the paper over and slid it toward Izaya.

Unlike the previous photographs, which were fuzzy, black and white, and taken from far away, this one was a close-up that had probably been taken on a cellphone. It was Jin. There was no doubt in Izaya's mind. He was clad in black, his eyes were looking straight into the camera; his gaze was cold and menacing. Two months ago, Izaya had driven a knife into this man's back, and now he was looking at him again, alive and well. He wasn't sure how long he had stared at the photo, but it must have been awhile, because Shiki had to snap his fingers at him to get his attention.

"So?"

"Yeah, that's him. It has to be." Izaya glared at the photo for a moment longer. "Where did you find this?"

"It was posted in an online forum two days ago. It was taken about a week ago in Nagoya, although we haven't been able to trace whose cellphone it's from."

_"Nagoya?" _This surprised Izaya. If Aoi and Akito had indeed remained relatively close to Ikebukuro, why had Jin gone to Nagoya?

Shiki shrugged. "I'm not sure if there's anything we can do at this point except keep our eyes peeled and continue to be cautious."

They had met once a week for the past two months, and every time they parted, Shiki had said almost the exact same thing. Izaya was really sick of hearing it. He wanted to form a concrete plan, one that could defend them all without risking their lives again. He wasn't sure if that was possible, he wasn't even sure if the remnants of the Black Hats and White Gloves would risk attacking them. However, if they did, Izaya wanted to be ready.

His phone buzzed against the desk. Izaya glanced at it at the corner of his eye. It was a singular text message that read: _7:30 at Russia Sushi?_

"Same time next week?"

Izaya's attention snapped back to Shiki. "Yeah, sounds good. Text me if anything comes up."

Shiki nodded, gathered his belongings, and with a quick "Goodbye," directed at both Izaya and Namie, left the aparetment. The room grew silent. Izaya felt his shoulders relax. Although the possibility of an attack was extremely worrying, he felt a bit better that they had their first concrete piece of information. At least their paranoia was justified now.

Izaya texted Shizuo back: _Sure_. He had no appetite, and the thought of Simon's stale sushi caused a wave of nausea to wash over him, but he needed to see Shizuo, and Russia Sushi was a restaurant they could trust to be safe.

"You need anything else before I go?"

Namie stood over him with a jacket tucked over her arm, and a bag hanging from her shoulder.

"No, that's all for today."

"Goodnight, then." She turned on her heel and left. Izaya felt his pulse quicken. Before the fight at the warehouse, he had liked to be alone. In fact, he had never really mulled over the concept of loneliness until recently. He had noticed—in his past experiments—that loneliness typically made people depressed and desperate. It made Izaya fearful and insecure.

He glanced at the clock. It was still two hours before he and Shizuo had agreed to meet up. In the mean time, he desperately needed some sort of distraction that didn't pertain to anything that Shiki had just told him. The thought of simply relaxing and watching some TV crossed his mind, but he wasn't confident that he could sit still for long. Instead, he decided to slowly, meticulously get ready for his date.

He drew a bath, turning up the water as hot as it could possibly go. Steam rose off the surface like smoke and drifted up toward the ceiling. He poured in some bubble bath. It was labeled, _Luscious Lavender. _The bottle claimed that it would help alleviate stress and relax muscles. Shinra—of all people—had given it to Izaya, after he had mentioned that he hadn't been sleeping very much.

"This doesn't seem very scientific," Izaya had said.

"It can't hurt to give it a shot, right?" Shinra shrugged. "Celty swears by it."

Izaya lowered himself into the tub, taking a deep breath as his skin came into contact with the near-scalding water. The floral scent of the bubbles wafted around the room. Despite his doubts, Izaya did have to admit that it was a pleasant smell. He massaged shampoo into his scalp, and scrubbed behind his ears. He rubbed a bar of soap over his arms and legs, being careful to not miss any spots. After he was done cleaning himself, he sank below the surface of the water and closed his eyes. It was so quiet. The only thing he could hear was the muffled sound of his beating heart. His pulse was slower now. Maybe the lavender bubbles really had helped.

He got out of the bath and dried himself off with a clean, fluffy towel. When he saw himself in the mirror, he nearly groaned. The dark circles under his eyes seemed to grow darker with each passing day. His complexion was paler than usual, and stubble had begun to grow on his chin and under his nose. Facial hair always looked awful on him; it sprouted up in thin, uneven patches. He desperately needed to shave.

After he shaved, he walked back into his bedroom and tried to decide what to wear. The first time they had gone out, Izaya spent a long time agonizing over his outfit. The usual black shirt, jeans, and jacket seemed too informal, and almost slobby. He had ending up donning a button-up shirt, tie, dress pants, and loafers. Shizuo had worn his usual shirt, vest, and bow tie, and had looked surprised when Izaya had turned up wearing something different than usual. The more they went out, the less fancily Izaya dressed. Ties and ironed shirts made him feel stiff and unnatural.

That night, he ended up picking a gray cashmere sweater, black jeans, and his usual black shoes. It was nicer than his typical outfit, but just casual enough to make him feel at ease. It wasn't like he felt stressed about his date or anything. He and Shizuo now felt comfortable around each other after a couple months of being together. However, he was still nervous about telling him what Shiki had told him.

After another glance at the clock, Izaya pulled on his jacket, left his apartment, and made his way toward the train station.

Izaya arrived at Russia Sushi slightly early. With his usual big smile, Simon guided him to a table in the back of the restaurant, near a small window. Shizuo must have called the restaurant beforehand, because a lit candle and a small vase, containing a single rose had been placed in the center of the table.

"Spasibo," Izaya said as he took his seat and shrugged his coat off.

"Anything to drink?"

"Vodka on the rocks with a twist, please."

With a nod, Simon walked toward the kitchen. Izaya wasn't much of a drinker, but that particular evening, he felt like he needed something to take the edge off. He tapped his foot against the floor, and rubbed his palms against his jeans.

A few moments later, Simon returned with his drink and with Shizuo in tow. He was limping slightly; the cast on his leg had been removed just a few days ago. They looked at each other, and the slight smile that had been on Shizuo's face faded. _Do I really look that bad?_ Thought Izaya.

"Hey," Shizuo said as he took a seat across from him. Simon placed the vodka down. Shizuo ordered sake.

For a minute, neither of them said anything. Izaya sipped at his drink and felt the vodka bite at his tongue and burn as it cascaded down his throat. A warmth blossomed in his cheeks almost immediately. Simon returned with Shizuo's sake, and after he left, the two of them looked at each other. Then, Shizuo did something that surprised him. He reached out, and gently enclosed Izaya's hand in his own. Neither of them were big fans of public displays of affection. They hadn't hugged or kissed each other in public, and had only held hands on the subway one time. This contact, however, was welcome, and Izaya laced their fingers together.

"What did Shiki say?"

"They found their first real lead," Izaya paused and took a sip of his drink. "Jin's alive. Aoi and Akito might be, as well."

"Are they sure it's Jin?"

Izaya nodded. "I can show you the photo later. It was taken a week ago in Nagoya."

Simon returned to take their order, and Izaya instinctively pulled his hand away. Simon let out a chuckle.

"Don't be embarrassed. This is so much better than you two fighting all the time," Simon said. He took their order and left them alone once more. Izaya sheepishly placed his hand back in Shizuo's.

"It'll be okay," Shizuo said, his voice shaking slightly. "We don't know for sure that they'll be back, right?"

"No, but they seemed pretty hell-bent on destroying us."

"That's true, but," Shizuo tightened his grip on Izaya's hand, and began to rub slow, soothing circles on his skin with his thumb. "This time, you'll have me. I refuse to be captured again." His voice was more confident now, and the small smile had returned to his face. Izaya couldn't help but smile back at him.

They spent a long time eating and drinking, at Russia Sushi. The more time passed, the more relaxed and happy they felt. When they stood up to leave, Izaya suddenly felt woozy. He wasn't insanely drunk, but he had definitely gotten tipsy. Shizuo, on the other hand, looked sober, except for the blush that had appeared on his cheeks. Hand and hand, they walked out of the restaurant, waving to Simon as they left.

"Do svidaniya!" Izaya exclaimed, his voice louder than usual, his speech a bit slurred.

As soon as they were outside, Shizuo pulled Izaya into a tight embrace, surprising him for the second time that night.

"Can you stay over tonight?" Izaya asked in a whisper.

"Of course."

Shizuo had spent about a month at Izaya's, recuperating from the worst of his injuries. During that time, they had discussed the option of moving in together permanently, but had decided against it. Both of them were worried that their relationship was moving too fast. They were comfortable around each other and cared for one another, but they couldn't ignore their past. Izaya still wasn't sure if he would ever be able to make up for how he had treated Shizuo, but he was going to try his best. They needed to build trust, and building trust was a tricky and gradual process.

They boarded a train to Shinjuku, and Izaya leaned his head on Shizuo's shoulder. He was instantly reminded of the time two months ago, when he had accidentally fallen asleep in that exact same position. He remembered feeling Shizuo tense up beneath him. This time, Shizuo only responded by draping an arm around his shoulders, drawing him in closer.

"Thank you," Izaya said, not even sure what it was he was thanking him for. Shizuo responded by placing a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

The train ride went by in a flash, and before either of them knew it, Izaya was unlocking the door to his apartment and dragging Shizuo inside. As soon as he had locked the door behind them, Izaya was pushed up against it.

Shizuo had pinned him effortlessly, his knee between Izaya's legs, one hand against his cheek and another against the door. They gazed into each other's eyes for a split second before Shizuo crushed their lips together in a passionate kiss. Izaya opened his mouth, sliding the tip of his tongue across Shizuo's bottom lip. He reached a hand up, and entangled it in Shizuo's blond hair. Shizuo responded by gliding one of hands underneath Izaya's sweater. They pressed into each other harder, Shizuo's knee rubbing up against Izaya's crotch. Izaya felt a warmth pool in his stomach. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest. They pulled away from one another, breathing heavily. Shizuo took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom. Almost immediately, they began to undress. Izaya pulled off Shizuo's shirt, and Shizuo unzipped Izaya's jeans before ripping them off. They tumbled to the bed, both of them naked, except for their underwear, which was removed after a few more minutes of making out.

Shizuo kissed down Izaya's throat and began to nibble at his collarbone. Izaya panted and let out a gasp.

"Do you want to do this?" Shizuo asked, bringing his face an inch away from Izaya's.

"Y-yes, I do," Izaya replied in a breathless whisper. Shizuo returned his mouth to Izaya's neck and slowly made his way down.

They collapsed about a half hour later, both of them drenched in sweat and out of breath. Shizuo drew Izaya into his chest, entangling their legs. Gradually, their breathing returned to normal, as their chests rose and fell in unison.

"Thank you," Izaya said for the second time that evening. He still wasn't sure if he was referring to anything specific. Shizuo planted another kiss at the top of his head.

Neither of them could be sure that they would be safe. Neither of them could know how much time they had left. However, there would be plenty of time to worry in the morning. That night, they felt safe. That night, neither of them were worried. They felt warm and calm.

Soon, they were asleep, safe and sound in a silent embrace.


End file.
